


A Strange Set of Circumstances: The Order of the Pheonix

by Azorrah_lee



Series: A Strange Set of Circumstance [5]
Category: Glee, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Crossover, Hogwarts Founders Era, M/M, Mystery, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-05 01:58:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 97,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15853893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azorrah_lee/pseuds/Azorrah_lee
Summary: The world is grieving for the loss of peace, join Kurt and his friends as they try to find their legs in a changed world.





	1. Chapter 1

_Department of Mysteries._

_23 rd December 987._

_11:58 PM._

Dear Helga,

I hope you are well when this reaches you and that your mother has recovered from her spattergroit, I hope the elixir I brewed helped her with her health. My family are all still well and pestering me to find a husband, my father told me that my job won’t care for me in my formidable years; I thought better than to mention that the health plan they offer extends into my formidable years. I absolutely hate that when the day should come where I find myself in search of a husband, I will be in the same dating pool as men twenty years my seniors. Why is it that it’s acceptable for them to sow their wild oats well into their old age?

I know you asked me to keep you updated on the matter of the great evil and how the ministry intends on dealing with the aftermath; I risk my job by doing so but we both know that were it not for your mother’s illness, you would be sitting in the desk beside mine- it’s still empty, come back. After extensive study, testing and contemplation, it has been agreed that records up to a point will be destroyed aside from a select few that will be left to the most enlightened. We will be recreating history, the great evil that has plagued us for so long is now gone and all that it once possessed will be destroyed, all but the creatures; they will remain as a secret reminder of the consequences of extreme evil.

In order to prevent stories from being passed from one generation to the next, we have decided to regulate education; by eliminating the current system of tutors, governesses and parents teaching children magic, we hope to prevent any future rising of an evil this great. I have been tasked with the job of gathering the greatest wizard in Britain and building a school; I have no wish to do such a thing but the Minister for Magic has selected me personally and dubbed me the wisest witch of the age. If I have been given this task because of my wisdom, then why does it feel like a punishment? Why does it feel like I am being damned to an eternity of obscurity?

If this is such an honour then why not bestow the honour upon Haim Black? He’s better experienced and he’s older, more importantly is that I’d be glad to be rid of him. The man is greying and yet he is persistent in his pursuit of me, taking every opportunity to attempt to court me. You and I both know that my work has been much too important to me for me to give it up to be Mrs Black, I did save the world a couple of months ago after all.

I’m in a precarious position, if I had never offered a solution to the problem of the evil then I would never have been burdened with this task. I would never have rose above my station and stepped on the men’s toes if I’d just kept my mouth shut and stayed silent, my meteoric rise in the ranks of the ministry is the only reason I’m being presented with this opportunity. But if I’d stayed silent then people would still be dying, the army would still be growing and the evil would still be very much with us. None of these men were even close to solving the problem, I had to step up.

There’s no longer a place for me at the ministry, my own plan has come back and strangled me.

I shan’t create the school the ministry wants of me, I shall create one of my own liking.

But I shall not teach of the horror, it has no place in the future.

If I’m going to do this then, dear sweet Helga, I’m going to need your assistance. I can be intense and driven in my pursuit of my goals, I’m going to need your help because I’m not sure that my stoic nature will fare well with children; I need you to offset my nature with your more pleasant nature. This request is qualified by your brilliance; I know not another witch who knows her way around a charm as you do- myself aside.

Please do consider my request and send my regards to Charles.

Yours Always,

_Rowena Ravenclaw._

~0~

Harry looked at the young man swinging beside him, boy would be an inaccurate term for him; if Harry refused to go by the _boy_ who lived then this was definitely a young man. Like clockwork, every day of summer so far they had met at this swing set just after one. Harry hadn’t planned on it but when he found the young man here on the first day of summer, there was nothing to do but return the following day and hope he’d be here. Harry didn’t understand why he did it but he felt like the fifty-five minutes they spent swinging side-by-side was important to him. Even though the young man never spoke, Harry felt so much less alone when they were together.

Harry watched the young man watching him, “are you going to speak to me today?” The young man bowed his head in shame and shook his head, “you know I understand.”

“No, that’s a lie,” Harry shook his head before the young man could make him feel small with his silence, “I can try to understand.” The young man shook his head and Harry reclined himself to the truth, “I know.”

Harry shook his head indignantly, “I won’t stop asking, I won’t stop trying to be there for you.” The look he got in response was sad and broken, “I’m the closest anyone will ever come to understanding what you’re going through. I might not have been there but, Kurt, I experienced it through your eyes; when they cut you, when he tortured you, when you saw my parents, when Cedric died. I have all the feelings, I remember it like you do and I can’t close my eyes without going through it again.”

Kurt leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, Harry knew what he would have said if he had spoken, ‘oh honey, I have to feel guilty about what you’re going through as well.’ He might have been more poetic about it but that was the gist, not being alone in this mess made him feel awful. Harry watched as Kurt got to his feet, with a small smile, the boy reached into his pocket and vanished as he had every day of that summer.

Harry sat on his own swing, the one beside him continued to move in the dry, still summer day; the loneliness set in once more. Harry just wanted Kurt to speak to him, he wanted to know what the other boy was up to and how he was coping with what had happened to them. Had it happened to them? Or had it just happened to Kurt? If Kurt had wanted to keep him in the dark, have him believe that it was him in the graveyard, he could have easily done it by cutting more finely around the memory but he had done it to liberate Harry and Harry needed to know he’d been liberated.

Had Harry failed the other boy by choosing to be a hero? Had he disappointed Kurt by choosing to follow the path predestined to him? Harry wished Kurt would speak to him so that he wouldn’t have to grasp at straws, so that he wouldn’t have to beat himself up over that choice. Mostly, he wanted Kurt to speak to him so that he could ask if he was having nightmares as well. Harry was back at square one, he was alone, a recurring trait of summer; whether it was a house elf intercepting his mail, all his friends being out of the country, or just that biting longing for human companionship. Harry hadn’t received any letters from any of his friends, nobody came to visit, Finn would call on days when Kurt was having a particularly moody day but he and Finn weren’t close enough for him to tell Finn his problems.

Harry knew now that those phone calls from Kurt that came at the end of summer when he returned from whatever faraway land he’d been visiting, just to ask how crazy Aunt Petunia had gotten and if it was still a comfortable crazy, meant more than he had ever thought of them. Harry would always tell him that she was being as nice to him as you can be with somebody you neither liked nor trusted; he’d explain that they now refrained from talking ill of his parents because of his shiny new psychotic godfather, they were still letting him keep the smaller of Dudley’s two bedrooms, and there was now a give and take on his chores. Harry never told Kurt that part of Aunt Petunia’s change of heart, her conversion experience aside, was meeting Kurt’s family; their charmed and distinctly muggle lifestyle had, incorrectly, given Aunt Petunia the impression that wizards could strive for normal lives. You see, Aunt Petunia had incorrectly believed that because both Finn and Kurt were wizards, then they were an all wizarding family. One that she found much more palatable than the Weasleys; Harry suspected that it was because Kurt’s father drove a fancy SUV.

Seeing Kurt helped some, the only other thing that helped was his new found fondness of reading; Kurt had gotten him a collection of history books that covered Voldemort’s first rise to power. They didn’t go into some of the details he knew and they were short on details of actual events but they painted a picture of what the times were like, what they would be like soon enough. One of the books had a list of all the people who disappeared, on the list were Fabian and Gideon Prewett- Ron’s uncles and Mrs Weasley’s younger brothers. Harry had been reading them in the order they were stacked because he knew that the fact that they weren’t organised by author, title, or size was a sign. At the bottom of the pile was a burgundy Moleskine journal, the first page had the title written in beautifully elaborate script; _The Increasingly Incomplete Account of the Second Wizarding War_. Harry did a double-take when he noticed the author’s name; Harry Potter.

~0~

Harry wished that he could write as beautifully as the handwriting on the first page but he just didn’t have it in him, he did his best though. Since discovering the last book, Harry had changed his and Kurt’s ritual slightly; he’d write all afternoon and as late into the night as he could manage, then he’d try to find some time between his chores to edit the story in the morning- he used the money he earned to buy black liquorice, because it was Kurt’s favourite- and add anything he might have missed. When he went to the park to meet Kurt he’d bring the journal with him and share the stories with Kurt, who would silently sit and nod or shake his head depending on where Harry misremembered their history. Harry had been contextualising their story by explaining that while this might be Voldemort’s first return, it wasn’t his first attempt; people needed to know that the return of Voldemort was inevitable but the way it happened and how they let it affect them was theirs to control.

That day’s story was an explanation of Sirius Black’s misfortune and misrepresentation, it culminated in Kurt setting fire to the night and Harry, with the help of Neville, defeating the dementors; after the end of the story there was an essay about how they understood that they’d broken the law but that they had done it in service to a greater cause- that in the service of the Lord, one must step away from God. Harry had never thought in such a way but it felt right, it had surprised Kurt that he’d had such a gift with prose hidden away. That day, Harry had presented Kurt with the first full diary and received a new one that was Navy to replace it.

After receiving his journal and Kurt’s departure, Harry had opened the book and begun to explain how he hadn’t known Cedric very well; how Cedric had been kind to him always and how that boy would eventually die willingly because he thought it might protect him. Harry was shoved out of his swing by large meaty hands, “Who’s Cedric?” Dudley taunted him, “is he your boyfriend?”

Harry didn’t answer, Dudley was no longer as wide as he was tall; the diet last summer had helped him lose what Aunt Petunia called his ‘baby fat’. He was now a large hulking bully of a boy, not that he wasn’t still fat but it was in a different way; his new frame had made him into an even more effective bully, he’d even managed to translate it into extracurricular activities by going out for rugby, wrestling and boxing. Harry wasn’t going to fight the lout, not with his two side-kicks with him. He wished Kurt was still here, Kurt was better at conflict than he was and would probably either talk his way out of this or punch one and dare the rest to try him.

“You guys should hear him moaning in his sleep,” Dudley continue as he stepped closer to Harry, “ _Don’t kill Cedric_!” when Dudley spoke, Harry got a flash of Cedric’s lifeless body, “ _Help me mum, he’s trying to kill me_.” A flash of Voldemort trying to touch Cedric’s body, Kurt losing his mind and threatening to mutilate everybody in the graveyard.

“Shut up,” the low growl escaped without Harry’s permission.

“Where’s your mum Harry?” Dudley continued to taunt him, “is she dead?”

“Shut up,” Harry slowly rose from where he had been thrown, his teeth were gritted and his fists were balled by his side. He was tempted to pull out his wand but the only person that would scare was Dudley, his friends wouldn’t understand that there was something to be afraid of- all they’d see is a crazy boy with a stick. Harry’s body was disobeying him as his wand was in his hand, he’d be expelled if he did this but Dudley had hit a new low, he deserved whatever Harry’s none compliant body had in store for him.

“You can’t do magic outside of school,” Dudley tried to keep face but Harry could hear the whimper under his words.

The wind picked up, “you see anybody around?” Harry grinned even though he knew that wasn’t how it worked, but Dudley didn’t know about the trace. The wind continued to pick up and Dudley’s friends seized their heckling, “I didn’t think so.”

“What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” the wind was now at gale force and a large, very angry rain drop hit him on the back of the head. Harry looked around to see that what had been a very sunny day had turned into a chilly, overcast day and it looked like it was about to rain, “I’m not doing this.” Harry shook his head, “I’m fourteen, I can’t change the weather.”

Dudley’s friends had disappeared when the weather had started turning, the pair took off at a run and, for the first time since being told, Harry realised that he was a better than fair runner. Kurt had been quite impressed with how well his ‘little baby legs’ worked and Harry had yet to get the opportunity to test them out, he didn’t think running in the rain was a fine measure of how well they worked but he was impressed none the less. By the time he and Dudley were safely away from the rain in an underpass, they were soaked to the bone and their chests were heaving.

“Droughts over,” Dudley grinned.

“It’s a flash flood,” Harry corrected, sounding too much like Kurt in his own ears, “it won’t be enough to end the drought, it’ll be over in less than an hour and tomorrow will be just as dry and hot as today.”

“You learn that at your freak school?” Dudley mocked him.

Harry didn’t answer, he was brought back to reality before he could formulate a comeback by the uncomfortable feeling of water freezing against one’s skin. Dudley leaned against the wall and slipped on the black ice that covered the walls and floors of the underpass, he slid across the underpass. Harry felt nervous but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what he had to be nervous about, it was just a weather anomaly. Suddenly and unexpectedly his mind began to work, it was the familiarity of the sudden change in weather; it reminded him of the train ride at the beginning of his third year.

“Dudley,” Harry turned to his cousin who was trying to get his footing, “run.” Almost as soon as the words had left his lips, his worst fear reared its ugly face into the underpass; dementors. There were two of the tall, thin, cloaked figures coming from each end of the underpass; one for each of them it seemed. Harry could feel the sadness that the dementors permeated begin to wash over him, he knew that he had to act quickly; with a deep breath, he thought back to that afternoon and the way Kurt had laughed when Harry had told the story of how Kurt had strangled Professor Lupin in the shrieking shack. Harry concentrated on how it had felt to watch Kurt laughing after watching him so sad for so long, “Expecto Patronum!”

The large stag emerged from the tip of his wand with a flash of bright, white light that surrounded the beast like an aura of purity, the dementor turned to feed on the spectral creature. As if prompted by this, the stag charged for the dementor, scaring it off. Harry’s attention immediately shifted to the other end of the underpass where Dudley lay motionless, the dementor hovering over him was moving closer to his still body and as it did this the rattle emitted by its chest got louder. Harry pointed the wand in the dementor’s direction and the stag charged it, drawing its attention away from Dudley.

When the underpass was clear, the lights dimmed as the Patronus dissipated. Harry crossed the space between him and Dudley in less time than he thought possible, he fell to his knees beside Dudley’s still unmoving body. Harry tried to feel for a pulse without knowing what he was actually doing, there was a faint beating in the side of his cousin’s neck. Now all he had to figure out is how to get Dudley home; the boy was much larger than Harry, he had long sprawling limbs and a torso that Harry could curl up into. Dudley was too tall, too heavy, too large for Harry’s knobby knees to support; he was failing Dudley just as he’d failed Cedric.

If only he’d had the foresight to bring chocolate, if he had Kurt’s insight then he too would have a big handbag with everything he’d ever need. The worst part was that he had chocolate fromHoneydukes under the loose floor board in his bedroom, knowing exactly where the one thing that could help Dudley was but having no way of accessing it; it was too far for the summoning charm to work effectively. And is if by instinct, his mind kicked into high gear; ‘The summoning charm is archaic, just use _Venir_.’ Harry raised his wand, took a deep breath and he concentrated on the exact location of the bar of chocolate, “Venir.” The bar appeared and a grateful Harry fed a few pieces to Dudley, who blinked more rapidly; Harry suspected the sugar was giving him energy and the chocolate part of chocolate was restoring some of his happiness.

“Harry,” a small voice called from behind him, he turned to find Mrs Figg standing behind him. Harry hid his wand, she shook her head and handed him her handkerchief, “don’t put away your wand, they only just left and they might be back. Wipe you're face, we’ll take care of moving your cousin together.”

“Mrs Figg,” Harry hadn’t moved, he stared at the handkerchief that she had extended in his direction, “I don’t understand.”

“the dementors are gone for now,” the old lady gave him a small smile, “you don’t have to cry, I’ll help you through this.”

Harry touched his face, he realised for the first time that he’d been crying, he was crying and shaking. He couldn’t steady his hands enough to accept the handkerchief; Harry crumbled under the memories of Cedric’s lifeless body, the idea that Dudley had almost suffered a fate worse than death and Kurt who was forced to live with that memory of the boy he loved lying dead on the grave of some faceless stranger. Harry was cemented to the spot by his pain, fear and guilt.

~0~

Kurt sat on the steps of number thirteen Grimmauld Place, his bag was beside him as he smoked his evening cigarette; he blew lazy circles and waited for the latest possible moment he could come home. He knew they were waiting for him on the other side of the door, waiting to treat him like an egg but Kurt didn’t want that. Of course, he never told any of them that. He hadn’t said anything since he’d gotten home, since Cedric’s memorial speech. Kurt didn’t use gestures, he didn’t write notes and he didn’t speak, just nodding and shaking his head- laughing when he was with Harry.

Finn had since taken it upon himself to facilitate Kurt’s obstinate nature, he had called and written all of Kurt’s friends and told each that Kurt was not communicating with anyone indefinitely; that was eight weeks ago, their summer vacation was almost over and everyday there was a letter, card, book or gift from Hermione. Mr Weasley had sent him a howler, a kind one but a howler none the less, telling him that he was being selfish by shutting out the people who wanted to be there for him; she explained that she had a house full of moody teenagers who were bummed that Kurt wasn’t speaking to them about his problems. Kurt knew that, to some degree, she was correct but he didn’t owe it to anyone to include them in his grieving process.

Kurt drew a deep drag, letting the smoke lazily escape into the warm evening. Kurt’s breath caught when he saw, emerging from the park a few houses over, a line of people led by Mad-Eye Moody; behind the large man was Harry Potter, looking worse for wear than he’d looked that afternoon. Kurt incinerated the remainder of his half-finished cigarette and shot to his feet as the group came to a stop in the middle of the road across from where Kurt assumed Number twelve was, he knew it was there but he couldn’t see it.

Kurt closed the space between him and Harry, patting the boy down as if to check if he was all still there. Harry didn’t react, it was a witch behind him with a pink pixie haircut who spoke, “who’s this now? Do you have a girlfriend?”

“This is Kurt Elizabeth Hummel,” Harry’s voice was flat, “and _he_ ’s just my friend.”

“Oh, sorry bud,” the girls voice had a treble to it that fascinated Kurt, she’d never sing but it was lovely when she spoke. She shook his hand, “Tonks.”

Kurt pulled his hand away as if he’d been burnt, he gave her a small apologetic smile. Harry turned to the group, “can Kurt and I have a moment?” Harry tapped his foot nervously, “I can see the house and nothing will happen to me while I’m with Kurt.”

“Five minutes,” Mad-Eye said, leading the rest of their party into the house Kurt couldn’t see.

“Kurt,” Harry hugged him tightly, “I need you to talk to me so that I don’t lose my mind.” Kurt took a deep breath but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything, Harry carried on with his tirade of begging, “I’m not making this about you anymore, I’m making this about my sanity; I’m having nightmares, I see it whenever I close my eyes, and I feel like a failure.”

“It’s about fucking time,” Kurt’s own voice sounded foreign to his ears, he sounded like he needed a throat lozenge like Voldemort had that night in the graveyard.

“What?” Harry looked at him and took a deep breath, “Have I truly lost my mind? Am I now imagining you speaking?”

“No,” Kurt shook his head, “I finally spoke to you and I said it was about fucking time you realised that it wasn’t about me being there so you could help me move on, it’s about me being there to help you come to terms with what happened to us.”

Harry’s lip quivered, “us?”

“You were there,” Kurt gave a weak smile, “I had you in my heart and on my mind, I was channelling you through the entire experience. You might not have been present but I experienced it for you and put it in your mind in such a way as to make it our experience.”

“Kurt, I…”

Kurt pressed his finger to Harry’s lips, “everyone’s waiting for you.”

Kurt turned toward his own home, “Aren’t you coming with me?”

Kurt shook his head, “I don’t think I’d be welcome, or that I’d be comfortable.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Harry scoffed, “how could you not be welcome?”

“I hurt a lot of people when I closed myself off,” Kurt shook his head, “People who will expect me to explain and apologise, something I’m not willing to do.”

“Dumbledore would want you to be here,” Harry pleaded.

Kurt chuckled, “He’d want me there least.”

“What?” Harry was confused, “you were like his confidant, his protégé in a sense.”

“The thing about that kind of relationship, is that the mentor expects their protégé to see the world as they see it,” Kurt smiled, “Professor Dumbledore and I agree on where we’re going but we don’t agree on how to get there.”

“I don’t understand,” Harry shook his head.

Kurt laughed, “Professor Dumbledore’s idea that dark magic makes a dark wizard has been a point of conflict for us for years, I’ve coming to a breaking point and I told him as much.”

“Now I really don’t understand,” Harry shook his head.

“You can’t go to a gun fight with a feather,” Kurt gave a weak smile, “You should go, I’m sure everyone’s waiting to see you. Tell Tonks that I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.”

Before Harry could speak, Kurt was off and up the stairs to the front door; disappearing into his home. They were all standing in the entrance hall waiting for him, he always came home to find them waiting like this for him; Finn sitting on the stairs playing with a jovial Harley, his father standing next to the window where he’d been watching Kurt, and Carole feeding Velma in the formal lounge. They all looked to Kurt expectantly and he usually stared back blankly, running off to his bedroom. Today he stood there watching them, none of them spoke, none of them did anything other than watch him.

“What?” Kurt snapped, “What do you want from me? You’re all always waiting for me and looking at me like you have something to say, what is it?”

It was his father who spoke first, his voice was small and broken, “Kurt, I love you so much. Watching you hurt the way you’ve been hurting was hard, watching the world chew up and spit out the boy I raised just as he was becoming a man.” The old man took a deep breath, “I want you to tell me how to be there for you? How to support you?”

“You’re dealing with so much,” Finn piped up, “you’re not doing magic for the first time since you started, you-know-who’s back, Cedric dying, and that thing with your parents.”

Kurt face palmed, “idiot.”

“The thing with your parents?” Burt quirked a brow in a manner that was frighteningly similar to Kurt; the brow was raised so high it might have kissed his hair line, if he’d still had one, “what about them?”

“I found out who they are,” Kurt sighed.

“That’s lovely,” Carole smiled and hugged him, “I know it was a source of great confusion for you.”

“Do you have plans to meet them?” his father swallowed a lump.

“No,” Kurt snapped, their faces fell, “they’re in prison for being wizard Nazis, the worst of the worst actually.”

The room was silent, Harley broke the silence, “Yay Kurtie.”

Kurt looked at Harley, at those big brown eyes just like Finn’s; he snapped, “Not yay Harley.”

Kurt took off at a run, up the stairs, he reached the first landing and bolted straight for his bedroom; throwing himself on the bed, trying to shut out the sound of Harley’s crying as it was chorused by Velma’s crying. Kurt’s father knocked angrily on the door, he didn’t wait for Kurt to invite him in but waited the customary time for Kurt to hide anything that needed to be hidden.

“Kurt Elizabeth Hummel,” the man shouted angrily, “I don’t know what you’re going through but I raised you better than to scream at a toddler. You are better than that, your parents could have personally nailed Jesus to the cross but that wouldn’t change a thing about you.”

“Do you think I give a fuck that they’re Death Eaters?” Kurt scoffed, “I wasn’t silent for eight weeks because of something I learnt last year in September, it’s not just about Cedric either.” Kurt took a deep breath, “I’m going to tell you a secret and you can never tell anyone else, ever.”

“Pinky swear,” his father held out his pinky and crossed his heart.

Kurt hooked his own finger in his father’s larger one, “I was in the graveyard in Harry’s place the night Cedric died; he stopped me when I tried to protect him, I tried to step in front of him and he stepped forward.”

“Oh, Kurt.”

“He told me that love meant letting go,” Kurt sobbed, “I’ve let him go but it’s the people who are still alive who are making me like this. Mom.”

“What happened to your mother was the fault of the hospital, not yours.”

“Mom wasn’t a match,” Kurt shook his head, “then at about the time that my magical core developed and I was entered into the Hogwarts registry, she suddenly became a match and died of an allergic reaction to an anaesthetic she’d used when she was having her appendectomy.”

“That’s not on you,” his father shouted.

“Maybe I altered the chemistry of her body so I could survive,” Kurt shrugged, “the accidental magic from before you’re eleven is unpredictable and happens in powerful blasts. The point is that the people I love seem perfectly content with dying in my place.”

“Twice is a coincidence,” His father had him by the shoulders.

Kurt looked away, “should I risk finding out if it’s a pattern?”

His father pulled him into a tight hug, “it doesn’t mean you should be alone.”

~0~

“Ms Hau,” Kurt smiled shyly at the woman and she did a double take.

“Kurt,” she gave a broad smile, “you speak.”

“I do,” Kurt pursed his lips, “I’ve ended my vow of silence. I wanted to ask you about Harry Potter’s trial.”

“What would you like to ask me?” her gaze was sharp, “as I recall, you and Harry Potter are friends.”

“We are friends,” Kurt nodded, “I was wondering if you would be working the case because I would have to recuse myself due to the conflict of interest.”

“We will be working the case,” she ran her fingers through her now messy hair, “we’re an investigation unit, we just deal with cold hard facts and there is no conflict of interest when it comes to the truth.” She gave a chuckle like wild bird, “now that you speak, please call me Xun.”

“I’m the same age as your daughter,” Kurt shook his head, “I don’t think it would be appropriate.”

“She calls me Xun,” Ms Hau countered, “besides, you’re a year ahead of her at Hogwarts, that should count for something.”

“Would it be the end of the world if I called you Ms Hau?” Kurt raised a brow, she nodded.

“Dude,” Kurt’s ‘colleague’ rolled his chair over from the next desk, “Ms Hau is definitely the end of the world. Xun is too smoking hot to be anything but Xun.”

“Mr Puckerman,” Kurt pushed the man’s chair back toward his desk but he quickly got to his feet, “I’ve been waiting to tell you this for so long.” Kurt smiled as the man looked down at him expectantly, “Please don’t call me ‘dude’. I have a very lovely name, please use it. This is not California, Aspen or Sydney; I’m not going to catch a wave with you and I’m not going to shred the powder with you either.”

“That is terrible stereotyping,” the man laughed, “maybe eating a hamburger or-”

“My intention wasn’t to stereotype your country,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “I was creating a stereotype of the word dude and its users. Even that was done facetiously.”

“I liked you better when you didn’t speak,” Noah Puckerman sulked. Then he smiled, “Let’s make a deal, I’ll call you Kurt or whatever, you have to call me Puck.”

Kurt rolled his eyes, “fine.”

“By the way,” Puck smiled, “it’s five past one.”

Kurt pulled his hand back and checked his watch, finding that he was late. Kurt walked briskly, making it to the elevator in next to no time. He pushed the ‘up’ button and waited, Kurt entered the first elevator without checking the occupants.

“Mr Hummel,” Kurt rolled his eyes, turning to face the Minister for Magic, “Enjoying your internship?”

“Ever so much Minister,” Kurt flashed a saccharine smile, he turned away before the man could engage him.

The next floor the elevator stopped at, the man waiting did not enter, “You see Mr Hummel, it’s customary to let the Minister ride alone in the elevator.”

“I’m sorry,” Kurt’s face was fixed into a grin, “but you must have me confused with somebody who cares.”

“I beg your pardon!”

“I’m in a hurry,” Kurt explained, “I wasn’t going to spend my whole life waiting for the next elevator.” The elevator came to a stop, “this is my floor.”

Kurt rushed to the fire places that connected the Ministry to the Floo Network and as soon as he was in the network he reached into his pocket and touched the portkey in his right pocket. The green flames of the floo began to spin and Kurt was standing in front of his house, where Harry was waiting for him with a note. Kurt took the note and read it, setting fire to it once he was done.

“Sorry I’m late,” Kurt smiled down at Harry, “the people at work were so fascinated by the fact that I can speak.”

“Is Tonks your cousin?” Harry asked as they crossed the road to number twelve Grimmauld Place.

“Yes,” Kurt nodded as they climbed the stairs to the entrance of the dilapidated town house; Kurt was glad that most people couldn’t see it because it was an eyesore. Harry opened the door, the interior of the house was exactly as Kurt had expected; old, derelict and outdated, waiting for him in the entrance hall were Hermione, Fred, George, Ginny and Ron. Kurt was once more in a situation where nobody spoke, waiting for him to make the first move, “Hi guys.”

Hermione stepped forward, “love of my life.”

“Don’t let Viktor Krum hear you saying that,” the pair giggled, not like they once did but times were different. Hermione pulled him into a tight hug, “Thank you for all the letter, cards, books and parcels. I missed you.”

“We missed you too,” Fred and George apparated to either side of the pair and hugged them tightly.

“Do you know how much mischief we’ve gotten away with in your absence?” George nuzzled into Kurt’s shoulder, “never leave me.”

“Or me,” Fred squeezed tighter, “We had to talk to Ron.”

“What’s wrong with you?” a deep voice called beyond Kurt’s peripheral vision.

“Kurt’s back,” Ginny spoke monotonously, “I think Fred and George are trying to eat him.”

“We are not trying to eat him,” Fred snapped, releasing the pair.

George let go as well, Kurt and Hermione were able to separate for the first time, “we’re just showing some affection.”

“After what felt like a lifetime without Ron’s Kurt,” the pair chorused.

“Still Ron’s Kurt?” Bill chuckled.

“Till the day I die,” Kurt shrugged from beside Ron, hugging the taller boy, “You grew.”

“Maybe now my legs go all the way up too,” Ron grinned broadly.

Kurt chuckled, “let’s not push our luck.”

“Like me, your legs will always go up the normal amount,” Ginny spoke with a falsely reassuring tone, “Come to terms with it now and save yourself a lot of grief.”

“Now,” Kurt smiled at his friends, “Harry and I are going to need a moment alone.”

“You heard us,” Hermione shoed the rest off, “We need a moment with Harry.”

“Not what I meant,” Kurt shrugged as she led them into the formal lounge; Kurt suspected that because the house was so primitively decorated, there might not be another lounge. Looking around the Black house made Kurt aware of just how wealthy the Black family was and how much his own family’s cosmetic renovations had done for their home; his home wasn’t as dark or out of date, yet they were working with the same structure.

“So Harry,” Hermione spoke, “About your trial.”

“The investigation conducted by the Auror’s office wasn’t conclusive but it does suggest the possibility that dementors were present,” Kurt explained.

“How do you know that?” Harry furrowed his brow.

“I’ve been interning in the Auror offices all summer, specifically the Investigation department,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “Mad-Eye Moody set up for me because I might have been a little livid that I had been deprived of a learning opportunity.”

“What learning opportunity was that?” Hermione side-eyed him.

“Learning from an Auror,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “but that’s beside the point.” Kurt squared up with Harry, “You have to do one thing, stick to your story.”

“And remember to bring up that Dudley already knew about magic,” Hermione added, “there are two charges; one for under aged wizardry, and one for exposing a muggle to magic. Dudley was already exposed to magic.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Good Morning Ms- Xun, Puck,” Kurt smiled, “I have your Coffee.” Kurt handed a cup to Puck and held one out for the woman who was riffling through her file cabinet, “What’s her story?”

“She’s trying to find the dossier on the Harry Potter case,” Puck smiled sipping his coffee, “Your coffee is the best, where do you get it?”

“I make it in my kitchen at home,” Kurt stepped between Xun and the filing cabinet, “I reorganised the cabinet into chronological order in two categories, ongoing and closed.” He made quick work of retrieve the file that was right at the front of the stack, “There we go.”

“And we’re off,” Xun smiled, grabbing her coffee, “damn this is some good coffee.”

“It’s _Kopi Luwak_ ,” Kurt smiled, “Where are we off to?”

“Harry Potter’s trial got moved up,” Xun smiled at him, “I like you a lot better when you talk, you were a little scary when you were quiet; you were like an efficient and emotionless automaton.” She tilted her head and scrunched up her nose, “My daughter’s frightened of you regardless.”

“Kopi Luwak,” Puck mumbled to himself as they waited for an elevator going down, “why does that sound familiar?”

“ _Caphe cut chon_ ,” Xun supplemented as they entered a crowded elevator, Kurt was tempted to quip about how glad he was that the Minister for Magic hadn’t been in the elevator but he thought better of it.

“The animal dung stuff,” Puck shuddered and pulled a face.

“Oh, do shut up,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “you’ve been drinking the stuff all summer and you haven’t died.” Kurt gave the man a hard pat on the back, “No need to be a baby about it.”

“I will absolutely be a baby about it,” Puck sulked as the elevator jerked to a stop on the lowest level. Kurt contained his inner excitement, he was right below the Department of Mysteries; a place that was literally in his dreams. Puck continued to complain and moan, “I’m totally within my rights to complain, can you imagine what it’s like to slowly be fed something you don’t know without your permission or consent? It’s like when wives kill their husbands by putting antifreeze in their food.”

“I know a spell that can make all your organs explode,” Kurt smirked, “I don’t need to poison you.”

“That sounds like something I should look into,” Xun laughed so hard she had to console herself.

They all filed into the courtroom, they were seated in the general seating area across the courtroom floor from the Wizangamot. The courtroom was set up just as it had been for the LeStrange’s trial from Professor Dumbledore’s memory; that was one thing Kurt would miss about his friendship with Professor Dumbledore, the man might have never given a straight answer but he always gave an answer. Kurt had been strategic about the dissolution of their ‘friendship’, he’d not shed light on his mistrust of the man as he knew that the feeling was mutual; Kurt had not wanted to make Professor Dumbledore aware of it as he feared that the man might better hide whatever it was that he was hiding.

Sitting in the executioner’s chair was Harry Potter; Mrs Weasley had cut and combed his hair, and she had dressed him in his Sunday best. He was sitting up as straight as a pin and, had Kurt been at number twelve this morning, Kurt might have suspected it wasn’t him; there was a calm air of maturity and poise about him that Kurt hadn’t really paid attention to, his shoulders were also broader and he looked to be cultivating the mother of all peach fuzz moustaches. Kurt waved when the boy spotted him, he got a weak smile in response.

“Calling to order the Wizengamot trial of Harry Potter,” Minister Fudge spoke from the podium directly in front of Harry’s seat, Kurt crinkled his nose at the theatrics of this trial; calling for a full Wizengamot and the Minister for Magic presiding over the trial were an extreme measure for any case, let alone one for underage use of magic. The man looked down at Harry over his spectacles, “Mr Potter stands accused of breaking the Statute for the Restriction of Under Aged Wizardry and breeching the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy. How do you plead?”

“Not guilty,” Harry’s voice was louder than was necessary.

“Council for the Defence,” A booming voice cut through the courtroom, “Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.”

“Ah, Professor Dumbledore,” Minister Fudge flashed a false smile, “You received our notice about the change of time and venue.”

“No,” Professor Dumbledore kept a stony face, “I just really like it here so I show up really early and strut into all the courtrooms announcing my presence.”

“Ah,” the Minister for Magic fumbled his notes, “Mr Potter, did you with full knowledge of the restriction of under aged wizardry cast a Patronus charm?”

“Yes,” Harry looked straight ahead and answered decisively.

“And did you knowingly perform magic in front of a muggle?” Minister Fudge shook his head as he spoke, Kurt wasn’t entertained by the theatrics and neither were the members of the Wizengamot, “A direct violation of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy.”

“Yes,” Harry nodded as he spoke.

“There you have it ladies and gentleman of the Wizengamot,” The Minister for Magic grinned, “an admission of guilt. The prosecution rests.”

“The defence would like to call their first witness to the stand,” Professor Dumbledore spoke while the Minister was celebrating his victory, “Mr Harry Potter.” The one-man celebration instantly ended and the man’s face fell, “Mr Potter, please tell the courtroom of the events that led up to your use of magic.”

“My cousin, Dudley, and I were hiding in an underpass waiting for the rain to pass when we were ambushed by two dementors,” Harry spoke slowly and clearly, “the dementors attacked the both of us and the one that had Dudley was moving in for a kiss, I had to cast that spell to prevent him from losing his soul. I wanted to save his life.”

“Very clever boy,” Minister Fudge’s tone was rich in condescension, “but muggles can’t see dementors.”

“Our investigation has brought to light the possibility that there were dementors present at the scene,” Xun spoke from her seat, “the damage to the vegetation near the scene was consistent with that which is found near dementors. We are also aware that the replication of such evidence is beyond the magical knowledge of Mr Harry Potter.”

Minister Fudge scanned the room, “Who said that?”

“I did,” Xun stood and raised her hand.

“And who are you?” the minister snapped.

Xun looked around in confusion, “Hau Xun, Head of the Auror Office Investigative Branch.”

“Yes,” the man nodded, “thank you Mrs Xun.”

“Ms Hau,” Xun corrected.

“The defence has a second witness to testify,” Professor Dumbledore smirked.

“There were no wizards in the immediate area,” Minister Fudge protested.

“Our witness is not a wizard but rather a squib,” Professor Dumbledore had his features schooled once more. Kurt cringed, he wasn’t fond of that term; it never sat well with him. An elderly woman approached the seat that was currently filled by Harry Potter, who got up and moved to sit at the end of the bench Kurt was sitting on, “The defence calls Arabella Figg.”

Minister Fudge furrowed his brow, “Can squibs see dementors?”

“We most certainly can,” Arabella Figg snapped.

A middle aged woman sitting to the Minister’s immediate right spoke, “The Ministry recognises benign magical abilities in squibs, including their ability to recognise magical anomalies that other non-magical individuals otherwise fail to recognise.”

“Thank you Madam Bones,” the minister relented, Kurt wondered if she was related to Susan Bones but dismissed the thought for another day, “Please continue.”

“Mrs Figg,” Professor Dumbledore spoke more gently to the elderly woman, “please describe the events you witnessed.”

“I saw two boys, one was large and the other quite skinny,” the woman was very soft spoken and Kurt had to strain to hear her, “they were approached by very large, tall, hooded creatures. All at once the temperature dropped and it seemed like all the happiness had gone from the world.”

“That’s lovely,” Minister Fudge chuckled, “but Dementors don’t just wonder into a muggle suburb and happen upon a young wizard; the odds are astronomical.”

“I don’t think this was a mistake,” Professor Dumbledore’s tone was matter of fact, Kurt stared daggers at the man who was putting Harry at risk so he could push his own agenda.

“I’m sorry,” a toadish woman with a bright pink brooch on her black robes spoke from within the Wizengamot, “Dementors are under the control of the ministry; to insinuate that this alleged event wasn’t a terrible coincidence, is to insinuate that it is the doing of the Ministry. Do I misunderstand you?”

“I hope that I am wrong Madam Under-Secretary,” Professor Dumbledore paused and Kurt whooped he wouldn’t continue but one of them was obviously wrong, “There is however another who might have orchestrated this attack on young Mr Potter.”

Professor Dumbledore approached the podium and spoke in a whisper, the Minister for Magic snapped back, “He is not back.”

“The defence rests,” Professor Dumbledore turned away from the minister as if nothing had happened.

“I have a few questions,” Kurt got to his feet, “yes or no questions, they’ll take next to no time.”

“Mr Hummel,” the tone was intended to reprimand him, “You are neither council nor Wizengamot member.”

“I’m aware,” Kurt smiled, “Rule thirty-four, article twenty-three, subsection twelve permits members of the gallery to ask three questions each after both the prosecution and the defence have rested but before deliberation begins. I’m within my window.”

“Very well,” the man let out a tired sigh.

“Mr Potter,” Kurt gave Harry a pointed look, “Do you think it is fair that you are being charged with breeching the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy for performing magic in the presence of a muggle who was already aware of the existence of magic?”

Harry’s eyes grew wide behind his spectacles, he shook his head, “No.”

“Do you think that it’s fair that the Ministry is charging you for breaking the Statute for the Restriction of Under-Aged Wizardry when they have set an unfair precedence by excusing a number of young wizards for breaking the statute in extenuating circumstances?” Kurt grinned, “for example; Hermione Granger during the riots at last year’s Quidditch World Cup final.”

“No,” Kurt nodded once more.

“One final question,” Kurt’s smile fell, “Is it true that if you hadn’t cast that Patronus, you would have been risking both yours and your cousin’s souls, both your lives, your livelihood, your home and your relationship with your aunt and uncle who are not fond of magic?”

“Yes,” Harry narrowed his gaze at him.

“Thank you for your candour,” Kurt pursed his lips, “nothing further.”

“Is the Wizengamot ready to vote,” Madam Bones inquired, she received an affirmative response. Percy rose from wherever he’d been sitting, “All in favour of conviction.” A number of hands went up, noteworthy were the Minister and Under-Secretary’s, “All in favour of acquittal on all charges.” There were significantly more hands, Percy nodded even though it really wasn’t necessary, “The acquittals wins, you are free to go Mr Potter.”

Kurt clapped his hands excitedly, Puck punched him playfully, “You're awful chipper, what? is he your boyfriend?”

Kurt pursed his lips, “Is that your way of asking me if I’m single?”

~0~

“Kurt,” Mrs Weasley gave him a tight lipped smile as she opened the door, “How lovely to see you again.”

“Thank you for inviting me,” Kurt smiled back, “how have you been?”

“I’ve been better,” Mrs Weasley shrugged as she led him to the Kitchen in the basement, “but I did receive good news to offset the bad. Can you imagine it? Ron, a prefect.”

“Not even in my wildest dreams,” Kurt’s eyes were wide when they entered the crowded kitchen.

“Both he and Hermione were selected,” she beamed, “Harry is a bit sad but there could only be two.”

“I’m sure he’ll get over it,” Kurt shrugged.

“Kurt,” Ron came over and excitedly flashed the crimson badge with letter ‘P’ printed in white old English script, “I’m a prefect.”

“Your mother told me,” Kurt chuckled, “I’m shocked.”

“What do you mean?” Ron furrowed his brow.

“Can you name one school rule?” Kurt tilted his head as he took a seat at the kitchen table with everyone else; exchanging hushed greetings with those who were present, this being the Weasleys with the addition of Harry and Hermione.

“I can too,” the boy scrunched up his face in deep thought, “Never tickle a sleeping dragon.”

“Strictly speaking, seeing as dragon breeding is illegal in the United Kingdom I doubt the school rules made a provision for such an occurrence,” somebody at the other end of the table countered.

Kurt peered around the heads that separated him and the person that spoke, he was unsurprised by who he saw, “Hipster Weasley, I’m impressed. You can quote me perfectly; imitation is the best form of flattery.”

“Did you make prefect?” Harry asked suddenly.

“Of course,” Kurt turned back to him and smiled, “If I hadn’t made Prefect I would have sued. I’m sorry you didn’t.”

“At least Draco’s also disappointed,” Harry’s tone was dejected.

“Not necessarily,” Kurt said before he could help himself. Harry looked at him expectantly, “Well, the rules don’t explicitly state that the two selected Prefects have to be of opposite genders; both Draco and I could be prefects but my money’s on Tracey Davis. Houses just select opposite gender pairs to improve their odds of having a head prefect. The four-one-one is that Angelina Johnson made Head Girl; I heard from Terry, who heard from Anthony, whose mother is friends with Mrs Johnson.”

“That’s what he does,” Harry shook his head, “I don’t know how he does it but Kurt will call on some obscure rule and information no normal person knows, swoop in and save the day. That’s what he did at my trial, aired all my business in the process.”

“Harry,” Kurt stared the daggers at the young man sitting across from him, “If you have something to say to me then please tell it to me straight, I currently don’t have the patience for passive aggressive character assassinations. I did what I did in your best interest unlike Professor Dumbledore who used it as an opportunity to meet with the Minister for Magic because the man hasn’t been taking his meetings all summer.”

“Who is he?”

“I beg your pardon,” Kurt raised a brow to warn Harry that he was treading on dangerous ground.

“The boy you were talking to when I came over to speak to you after my trial,” Harry snapped, “Cedric died-”

“Firstly, you just said it; Cedric died, not me,” there was a chorus of gasps, “I’m not his widow, I don’t have to honour any period of mourning and I will not spend the rest of my life married to his ghost just because the idea of me moving on makes people uncomfortable. Secondly, Noah Puckerman is not a boy, he is five years my senior and my colleague. Thirdly,” Kurt’s breath caught, “You of all people understand that I won’t soon forget the how and why of Cedric’s death but I refuse to let his death govern how I live my life.”

Harry didn’t speak, he and Kurt stared at each other in their little Mexican standoff of sorts. The kitchen was silent as their observers were constricted by the awkward moment that Kurt and Harry had created; the first human voice after his own was in his ear, “Let’s go have a cigarette and calm down.”

Hermione- who had moved from her seat beside Harry, around the table to Kurt’s side- pulled him by the hand, up the stairs and past the first floor. Once they were out on the balcony, they stood facing each other in silence, “I have to apologise to everyone for creating an awkward moment.”

“No,” Hermione shook her head, “fuck them if they don’t naturally understand.”

“Good,” Kurt put a cigarette to his lips and inhaled deeply, “I understand what it means to Harry, when we gave him my memory we also gave him my emotional response and he isn’t letting it go so that he can move on. He didn’t take the parts he needed and discard the rest like I did.”

“So when you say Noah Puckerman is five years your senior,” Hermione grinned, “what does that mean? Is he too old for you?”

“Of course not,” Kurt gasped, “I like men who are mature and distinguished, see my last relationship. If five years is outside of my dating pool that makes for a very shallow dating pool.”

“Mature and distinguished,” Hermione scrunched up her face, “that sounds like you’re describing wine, do you also like them with an aroma of orange peel.”

“Now that I’m newly single,” Kurt smiled, “I can discover whether I like my men with the aroma of orange peel or if I prefer a more summer-y fragrance.”

“I-” Hermione went silent and thought for a moment, “how are you so okay? You loved Cedric so much and you’ve dealt with his death so much better than I have, and I only knew him through you.”

“I meant what I said in there,” Kurt took a long drag of his cigarette, “I might have sounded like an angry cold bitch and people might think Cedric deserves better but I stand by it; Cedric died, not me. I mourned his death so hard and now I’ve let him go.” Kurt took another drag of his cigarette, “his story in this plane of existence has ended, mine continues.”

~0~

Kurt walked cautiously up the walkway toward the country manor, he came to a stop on the doorstep with his palms sweating from nerves. It had taken him quite some time to track down any family he might want to meet; he’d thought for a moment to speak to Narcissa Malfoy but he thought whomever had raised Draco wasn’t the kind of person he wanted to be on speaking terms with, Sirius had told him that Bellatrix and her sister, Andromeda, hadn’t been on speaking terms for twenty years which he knew made for neither a good spring board for a relationship nor a basis for interrogation. Kurt wanted to know more about the monsters that had borne him and this was where the trail had led him, Bellatrix LeStrange’s childhood home.

Kurt took a deep steadying breath, he looked up at the imposing manor and gave the door three sharp wraps, his heart was pounding and he regretted the entire trip but he knew he couldn’t turn back now; he had come too far to turn back now. The door was answered by an extremely beautiful woman with heavy lidded eyes, a straight upturned nose that matched his own and elegantly quaffed, side swept white hair. She looked exactly as Kurt remembered her from the Quidditch World cup finale.

“Hello,” she pursed her lips to punctuate her sentence as her voice didn’t give any tells, ever deep and level, “Good, you’re on time”

Kurt eyed the elegantly dressed woman with curious eyes, her mannerisms matched his so well, “Good morning, I’m grateful for the time you’ve taken out to see me.”

“Nonsense,” she shook her head dismissively, “I’ve been meaning to invite you for tea for a while now but I’ve lacked the means, Draco doesn’t know where you live so I couldn’t send an owl. Receiving your owl saved me the trouble.”

“You have a lovely home,” Kurt smiled as he looked at the opulence of the country manor from another period.

“Thank you,” She did not smile or give any indication that she was glad to hear his words, “the house has been in the family for generations. I suppose now it will be yours someday.”

“Mine?” Kurt shook his head, “my reasons to meet have nothing to do with whatever family wealth you might possess.”

“Don’t be absurd, I know you’re not here for the fortune,” she chuckled, “you’re the eldest child of the eldest child, if it weren’t for Bellatrix’s condition then it would pass to her at my death but it will by-pass her and go straight to you.” She stared intensely at him, “Azimuth, put on a fresh pot of tea.”

“Yes mistress,” a house elf in a French maid’s outfit, who materialise beside Druella Black at the sound of her name, bowed before disappearing.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt furrowed his brow, “Bellatrix’s condition?”

“Her incarceration,” the elegant lady twitched at the last word.

“Oh,” Kurt nodded, glad that there wasn’t any medical condition he had to be afraid of, “I see.”

“I have to call Jadis,” she gestured for him to remain in his seat as she strode over to the fire place, “she’s running late and she might be dead at her age, one can only hope.”

“Who’s Jadis?” Kurt raised a quizzical brow as he took in his surroundings, waiting to be engaged once more.

“Jadis is your other grandmother,” she threw some floo powder into the fire place and green flames grew to fill the opening, “she’s Rudolphus’s mother and my lifelong best friend.”

Kurt watched as the woman leaned toward the fireplace and the head of another beautiful witch appeared, she too had short hair but hers was still blond, worn shorter and more simplistically in a pixie cut.

“Druella, I see you're still alive,” this woman spoke melodically and expressively like Kurt often did, her manner caused Kurt great surprise as she’d spoken words that didn’t match her cheery disposition, “to what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Come over, I’ve got a pot of tea brewing and somebody for you to meet,” Druella’s words sounded more like a command than a request but her friend smiled, “I told you yesterday that we had a lunch date, are you so old that you’ve forgotten already?” Before Druella had made it to the two-seater opposite from Kurt the second woman had appeared with a faint pop that Kurt had come to synonymise with apparation, “Good, you’re here.”

“Who is it that was so important that I had to come over immediately?" the woman floated over to where the two of them were sitting.

“This is my grandson,” Druella gestured to Kurt with neither disdain nor esteem.

“That’s not Draco,” the second woman’s eyes grew wide and she turned to her friend with a disapproving gaze, “you didn’t!”

“No, of course not,” she merely pursed her lips, “this is your grandson as well.”

“No,” she shook her head, “that would mean.”

“Jadis Rowle LeStrange,” Kurt thought for a moment he saw the hint of a smile on Druella’s face, “Meet- heavens me, I haven’t even asked the boy his name in my excitement.”

“Kurt Elizabeth Hummel,” Kurt extended his hand to the woman but she pulled him into a tight hug instead, she smelled like lavender.

“That won’t do for a descendant of The Noble and Most Ancient House Black,” Druella tapped her index finger on her chin as she thought with pursed lips, “Lupus, yes of course; it’s a constellation, the wolf like your father.”

“Lupus?” Kurt raised a brow, “like the disease?”

Jadis shook her head rigorously, “it doesn’t sound right, LeStrange men have names beginning with the letter ‘R’.”

“It’s fine,” Kurt raised a dismissive hand, “I already have a name and I actually have some difficulty with the letter ‘R’.”

“Rigel Cygnus LeStrange,” Druella suggested, “does that sound better to you? Rigel is the brightest star in Orion and Cygnus like his grandfather.”

“Rigel,” Jadis smiled brightly, “my baby’s baby.”

“I’ve always wanted another grandchild,” Druella pursed her lips with what Kurt guessed was glee, “I’m not really fond of the one I have.”

“How did we not know?” Jadis asked her friend as she fell into the seat beside her, “why weren’t we told?”

“Kurt was about to tell us the story,” Druella lazily ushered for him to continue, “I’m sure he’ll tell it better than the hysterical house elf I heard it from.”

“I heard this story from a third party,” Kurt took a deep breath and recalled the story as Barty Crouch Jnr had told it, “Bellatrix didn’t know she was pregnant until they were attacking the home of Argyris Mopsus.”

“The famed blood traitorous seer,” Jadis nodded, “I remember the day, we’d had lunch together.”

“Whilst they were torturing him he reached out, clasped her stomach and said ‘ _that which most shames you festers inside you._ ” Kurt paused for dramatic effect, “she took a pregnancy test and it confirmed part of what he’d said, from what I’ve heard she believed that he meant I was going to be a squib and decided to hide her pregnancy with the fidelius charm, using the witnesses and Narcissa as secret keepers. When I was born they made the unbreakable vow never to speak of it to or in the presence of anyone outside that room.”

“The seer only saw that she was pregnant and embellished to spite them,” Druella showed real emotion for the first time and it was anger, “he besmirched both the House of Black and the LeStrange family.”

“Narcissa ordered Kreacher to get rid of me, but House Elves cannot harm a witch or a wizard,” Kurt knew that his story was winding down, “he instead placed me with muggles near his place of work.”

“With muggles?” Jadis gasped as they were served tea.

“I’m not Rigel Cygnus LeStrange,” Kurt shook his head, “I might have been if the circumstances had been different but they weren’t. I’m Kurt Elizabeth Hummel; I have muggle parents, a brother who is muggleborn and the only pureblood friends I have are considered blood traitors in your circles. I’m not what you’d expect, I fight against the enslavement of house-elves; I don’t sit in the high horse I’ve been afforded by society. I doubt we’ll ever really get along or have any kind of relationship because of it.”

“Why did you come here?” Druella asked him, not looking him in the eye.

Kurt looked down into his lap, “I foolishly believed that I could learn something about myself but I’m looking externally for something I need to find inside.” Kurt put down his cup, shaking his head, “I apologise, I shouldn’t have come. I apologise for wasting your time.”

Kurt got to his feet but Jadis shot him a stern look, “Sit down.” Druella raised a brow, “I don’t have grandchildren, my family will be extinct when my boys die; I can’t afford to be throwing any kind of family away, I have nobody left.”

“He associates with blood traitors and mudbloods,” Druella scoffed.

“Could you refrain from the use of prejudicial terms,” Kurt snapped, “I was a muggleborn a year ago and I’m, by some definitions, a blood traitor now; I’m a little sensitive to the name calling.”

“Please Rigel,” Jadis spoke, a forced smile on her face, “take a seat. Let’s remove the politics from our tone’s and conversation, please tell us about yourself.”

“Please call me Kurt,” he gave a small smile; they each nodded, grudgingly on Druella’s part. Kurt thought of what he could tell them without making them too angry, “I’m doing my fifth year at Hogwarts this year, I’m in Slytherin- I’m the house prefect.”

“You’re just like your mother at your age,” Druella smiled, “I remember when she was in fifth year, she was ever so excited to be a prefect. She got ten Outstanding grade OWLs and one Exceeds Expectations.”

“I’m top of my year- well, my best friend and I sort of share the title,” Kurt refused to be ashamed of his friends, he’d refrain from mentioning them by name but he would not deny them, “I’m set to write fourteen OWLs.”

“Fourteen?” Druella raised a brow.

“During the Triwizard Tournament last year we were offered two additional subjects, Civics and Dark Arts,” Kurt explained, “We’ve been given the option to continue to OWL level.”

“Do you play Quidditch?” Jadis sked, she was practically on the edge of her seat, “both of your parents played for Slytherin, making captain in their respective years of seniority.”

Kurt shook his head with a small chuckle, “I technically don’t fly, I find it to be impractical as a mode of transport in a world with cars, supersonic flight and the Floo.”

“Seems to me like somebody’s a little light in their loafers,” Druella gave a small smile, “Other than being a know it all, bleeding heart- what do you do?”

“I’m a Master of Order of the White Lotus,” Kurt shrugged, he realised that saving Hogwarts from annual attacks wasn’t really an extracurricular, “I’m currently interning in the Auror offices. I’m vice-president of the Society for the Protection of Elvish Welfare. I used to co-head the Duelling club.”

“That’s quite interesting,” the snow haired woman didn’t seem the least bit impressed, Kurt wasn’t used to being anything less than impressive.

“You’re awfully intelligent, you must have taken after your mother,” his blond haired grandmother smiled broadly, “your father was always more of a doer than a learner. You remind me of my childhood friend, Clive Lewis, he turned out to be a squib which was quite the disappointment for his parents.”

“Was he also a raging homosexual?” Druella gave a small giggle.

“I’m not ashamed of that,” Kurt snapped.

Druella shrugged, “You shouldn’t be, we’re not savage muggles. I simply wanted conformation that it wasn’t just House Black that was going extinct, the LeStrange’s only heir won’t be having any children- not in the traditional sense at least.”

Jadis paled, “you’re right.” She seemed to clutch herself in consolation, “No great-grandchildren.”

“You do know that this is the twentieth Century,” Kurt chuckled, “there are countless ways for people to have children without engaging in heterosexual sex, the only reason I won’t be having children is because I hate children.”

“And you think I like children?” Druella snapped, “I didn’t have children because I like children, I didn’t have children because I wanted children, I had children because it was expected of me.” She laughed, “Cygnus was very disappointed that I never bore him sons, he wanted to keep trying and I told him I wasn’t a baby maker; it killed him… or did I kill him? It gets fuzzy near the end.”

Kurt nodded slowly, it was frightening how similar to him and Hermione the pair were; Jadis had that youthful optimism that Kurt had tried so hard to crush in Hermione; Druella was the cold, not quite there, pretty one. Kurt’s mind finally caught up with itself, “I’m sorry but can we rewind, did you say Clive Lewis? Like _C.S Lewis_? As in the Author of _The Chronicles of Narnia_?”

“I suppose,” Jadis shrugged casually, “I’m not sure what he did with his life.”

“He wrote a series of epic fantasy novels for children,” Kurt chortled loudly, “he based the villain in the first and last books on you.” Kurt couldn’t control his laughter, “Or at least he named her after you; Queen Jadis, the White Witch.”

“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” she shook her head.

“You’re one of the most hated literary villains,” Kurt recovered from his laughing fit, “Please tell me you were friends with L. Frank Baum.” Kurt caught himself, “No, you’re not nearly old enough.”

“Madam,” the spiffily dressed house elf interjected, “Lunch is served in the formal dining room.”

“That will be all Azimuth,” she dismissed the house elf with what Kurt assumed to be the closest a pureblood wizard supremacist could come to saying thank you to a house elf, it was still better than how Sirius treated Kreacher.

Kurt was escorted into a dining room that was even more ornate than his own home’s all white décor. As Kurt took his seat- as instructed- at the head of the table, his eye caught on the portrait of an aged man with greying sandy hair, a full grey beard and piercing blue eyes. He was dressed like a highly decorated redcoat and sitting at a vintage secretary; he looked like he had been handsome in his youth but this man looked to be past his prime. Kurt turned to Druella, “might I ask who that is?”

She looked lazily up at the portrait, “That’s Haim Black, the patriarch of the only extant line of the House Black.”

“He lived a thousand years ago,” Jadis spoke as if she’d been told this story a hundred times, “Was a close personal friend of Salazar Slytherin.”

“It was Rowena Ravenclaw he was best acquainted of the founders, he only knew Slytherin through her,” Kurt heard himself correcting without knowing exactly how he knew such a thing or where he might have read it.


	3. Chapter 3

Kurt had been invited to the final Order of the Phoenix meeting by almost everybody in his age group at number twelve, and despite his insistence that he wouldn’t feel right, here he was at the door. He knocked on the door with a false bravado, he knew that even though some people had asked him to be here they would rather he wasn’t. Hermione had hypothesised that his prowess, when it came to dealing with conflict, was a result of his extraordinary ability to catalyse conflict, Kurt thought it was unfair to blame him for the missteps of others.

“Kurt’s here,” Fred and George beamed when they opened the door.

“You know you’re the only person who actually knocks,” Fred chortled as they ushered him into the house.

George shrugged, “Most people assume that by virtue of knowing that the house exists, they have a standing invitation.”

“I was raised with manners,” Kurt smiled politely.

“Really,” Fred and George chorused, eyeing Kurt with a slew of trepidations.

“Yes, really,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “I might not be the friendliest but my manners are impeccable.”

“I can vouch for that,” Tonks chuckled.

“I wasn’t unfriendly at our meeting,” Kurt squeaked defensively, “I was simply caught unawares.”

“You looked at me like something the dog dragged in,” Tonks shrugged as Kurt slipped into a seat between Harry and Hermione, “I thought maybe you made the connection to my less than savoury relatives.”

“He’s connected alright,” Ron chuckled, earning a glare from Kurt. Ron raised his hands protectively, “You share a dorm room with Draco.”

“Shared,” Kurt bounced excitedly.

“What do you mean ‘shared’?” Hermione nudged him hard.

“Ouch,” Kurt’s voice hit a note at the threshold of human hearing. He rubbed the spot of contact, “I’m a Slytherin prefect, I get a single room.”

“That’s not fair,” Ron grumbled.

“We didn’t get single rooms,” Charlie protested.

“It’s just a Slytherin thing, we never had them in Hufflepuff,” Tonks shrugged.

“Nymphadora is partially correct,” Kurt nodded, brushing off the glare he received from Tonks, “Ravenclaw awards single rooms to the top student, but it’s generally a Slytherin prefect privilege.”

“I’m top of our year and a prefect,” Hermione shook her head, “but I’m still sharing.”

“Because you guys are all friends,” Kurt mocked them, “Yay Gryffindor!” Kurt clapped facetiously, “I’m sure yours is the only where the Quidditch Captain shares as well.”

“He does,” Charlie grumbled miserably.

“Cheer up Charles,” Kurt supressed a smile, “I’m sure there are other perks to being in Gryffindor, you guys get to wear maroon.”

“And we don’t have to be afraid that we’ll turn evil,” Ron stuck his tongue out at Kurt.

“And if you do, you’re welcome in Ron’s bed,” Kurt pursed his lips, “or was Pettigrew a special case.”

“Ten points to Slytherin,” Harry announced jovially.

Kurt placed a hand on his shoulder, “Slytherin and Ravenclaw prefects are the only students who can award points.” Kurt pursed his lips, “fifty points to Slytherin.”

“Head Prefects can also award points,” Bill pointed out.

“Yes but due to the infrequency with which Gryffindor head prefects are selected,” Kurt shrugged, “Before Percy it was you and before that… it might have been Professor McGonagall.”

“My dad was Head boy,” Harry said, almost as if he were gloating, “Both my parents actually.”

“Yes,” Kurt nodded, “I know, I didn’t want to be indecorous.”

“Kurt,” Mrs Weasley called to him, “Both yours and Tonks’s mothers were Head Prefects; yours the same year as Fabian.” She was silent for a moment as Kurt gaped at her slack jawed, or at least a more elegant equivalent, “Come to think of it, I think all three of the Black girls were Head Prefects.”

“Quite correct Molly,” Sirius nodded, “Drove my mother insane, why can’t you be more like Bella, Andy and Cissy?”

“They called Malfoy’s mother Cissy,” Ron chuckled.

“It’s short for Narcissa,” Kurt quipped before turning to Tonks, who was gaping at him, and shrugged, “surprise?”

Ron, who was nearest to her, gave her a quick rundown of the tale; Kurt knew he would have to reprimand the boy for his prowess at sharing the tale, how many people had he told? “The long and the short of it, Kurt’s your cousin.”

“I’ve never had a cousin,” Tonks smiled nervously, “at least, not one I’ve met.”

“You’re not missing out on much,” Sirius shook his head, “my cousins were all lunatics.”

“Tonks is sitting right here,” Hermione squeaked a rebuke.

“Anyone who would name their child Nymphadora is certifiable in my book,” Tonks chuckled.

“It must be a familial thing,” Kurt chuckled, “Your grandmother thought my name unsuitable and decided to rename me ‘Rigel’.”

“Maybe she heard you think you're the Queen of Sheba,” Charlie quipped.

“Firstly, _Re-jel_ not Regal, I’m not mispronouncing it. Secondly, I don’t think I’m the Queen of Sheba,” Kurt shook his head, “Hermione’s the Queen of Sheba.”

“No,” she shook her head, “I’m the arbitrator of what is and isn’t real.”

“Really, I could have sworn-” Kurt gasped, “Maybe I am the Queen of Sheba.”

“Please note that I said ‘think’,” Charlie tried to clarify.

“At least you’re thinking,” Ron flashed his brother a toothy grin, “it’s a step in the right direction.”

“Good evening all,” Mr Weasley smiled cheerily as he strode into the kitchen, he kissed Mrs Weasley and settled into a seat at the head of the table.

“Not all,” Kurt interjected, “Ginny is absent.”

“Mum sent her to bed after dinner,” Fred exclaimed.

“I suggested sending her to bed without dinner,” George completed with equal cheer.

“Mum disagreed,” they chorused, “we ended up being sent to meeting with no desert.”

“There’s still some of my sticky toffee cake if you’d like some Kurt,” Mrs Weasley smiled.

Kurt shook his head, “I’m on a juice cleanse but Hermione loves toffee, she can have my slice.”

“I also like toffee,” Bill protested.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt smiled politely, “But you must have me mistaken with somebody who cares.”

“There’s more than enough to go around,” Mrs Weasley chuckled, glad for the attention.

“I think we’re ready to begin,” Sirius nodded to Remus.

“We can’t leave it too late,” George chuckled.

“Harry’s got to go write in his journal,” Fred snickered.

“Dear Diary,” they chorused, “today was a very strange day.”

“I don’t quite understand what I saw Fred and George doing to each other,” Kurt stared daggers at the pair.

“We’ll get you,” the pair glared back at him.

“It appears as though You-Know-Who has gone into hiding as he gathers a following,” Remus explained, “we’re not sure what his next move will be but the fact that people remain ignorant or obstinate to the facts of his return puts thousands in danger.”

“Millions,” Hermione interjected, “Muggles are in danger as well, if we disregard them then we’re no better than those that we oppose.”

“Yes,” Mr Weasley nodded, “Hermione is quite right, the muggles are the most vulnerable.”

“Azkaban,” Kurt spoke up, “that will be his next conspicuous move.”

“What makes you say that?” Sirius leaned forward curiously.

“His most loyal followers are the ones that braved Azkaban rather than deny him,” Kurt explained, “he’ll struggle to gather a following if he doesn’t do right by those who were loyal to him even in death.”

“Barty Crouch Jr is dead,” Harry furrowed his brow, “So basically he’s going to break the LeStranges out of prison.”

“Along with a slew of other Death Eaters,” Mr Weasley shuddered.

“Antonin Dolohov,” Mrs Weasley stopped dead in her tracks.

Mr Weasley got up and stood beside her, “It’ll be fine Molly.”

“Will it?” she leaned up against her husband, “will it truly be fine?”

“Things will work out,” Mr Weasley assured her.

Mrs Weasley took a step back, “You say things will work out but at what cost? When will this be over? What cost will we have to pay to end it? Will life ever be as it was?”

“Don’t be irrational Molly,” Sirius shook his head.

“I might be the only one being rational here,” Mrs Weasley snapped before Sirius could say any more, “I have seven children to look out for, Harry and Hermione are as good as my children; all these people to worry about.”

“Harry’s is my ward,” Sirius snapped.

Molly shook her head, “he’s been in my charge longer than you’ve had your head screwed right way round.”

“Oh Molly,” Mr Weasley shook his head.

“What?” she snapped back at him, she followed his gaze- everyone did. Kurt tried to see what they were looking at but there was nothing spectacular behind him, “Oh dear.”

As realisation dawned, Kurt raised a silencing finger, “it’s fine, I’m not a child. I already have too many people trying to parent me anyway.”

“It’s just-”

“Water off a duck’s back,” Kurt dismissed her. He gave a soft smile, “You’re perfectly right, the role we’ve decided to take in this war puts us at great risk.”

“And that’s why you shouldn’t be going back to Hogwarts this year,” Molly huffed.

“Not this again,” Sirius rolled his eyes dramatically, “Hogwarts, with Dumbledore, is the safest place for them.”

“Let’s not go crazy there,” Kurt shook his head, “there was a giant snake that kills by making eye contact in the basement for nearly a millennium. There was a three headed dog on the third floor, behind a door that could be opened by a first year.”

“Don’t forget the giant spiders,” Ron shuddered.

“Acromantulas running wild in the forbidden forest,” Kurt shook his head, “They had a man with a dark wizard on the back of his head teaching one year, a fool the next, a werewolf without any notice to the student body and a mad man teaching last year.”

“Easy,” Mad-eye Moody warned him.

“I wasn’t even talking about you and your eccentricities,” Kurt chuckled.

“What Kurt means is that saying Hogwarts is the safest place would be a tad misleading,” Hermione explained with a small laugh.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” Kurt gave a tight lipped smile, “I’m sure Professor Lupin understands what I mean, having a student encounter him in his werewolf form would be a lot less disastrous if the student was aware of the possibility.”

“But Professor Dumbledore-” Harry began but Kurt simply shook his head.

“Professor Dumbledore is part of the problem,” there were hushed gasps all around, “he withholds information that could be crucial to the matter at hand.”

“Kurt,” Harry shook his head, “You’re only saying that because the two of you had a falling out.”

“And you’re only saying that because you’ve canonised him like the rest of the wizarding world,” Kurt pursed his lips, “Professor Dumbledore is a great, powerful and intelligent wizard but he’s also flawed like everyone else.”

“Wait,” Ron gaped at him, “so you agree with mum?”

“Heavens no,” Kurt guffawed at the thought, “what would we do all year if we didn’t go back to Hogwarts? We won’t get back into muggle schooling after a four-year sabbatical, we have OWLs and NEWTs to write; part of expecting this to be over at some point is carrying on with normal life as much as possible, we need to be in school so we can learn more magic that might help defeat the Dark Lord.”

“But you said Hogwarts wasn’t safe,” Mrs Weasley huffed angrily.

“It isn’t,” Kurt shook his head.

“I’m confused,” Tonks furrowed her brow.

“What Kurt means to communicate is that you can’t assure mum that everything will be fine on an argument based on incorrect statements,” Charlie spoke clearly and everyone strained to hear his soft gravelly voice, “You can’t tell her that Hogwarts is the safest place when I can think of ten safer places off the top of my head, the truth is that in war there are no true safe spaces.”

“Every safe space has its shortcomings,” Hermione continued, “Trade-offs; not returning to Hogwarts means that we can’t learn or do magic.”

“And that doesn’t help end this war,” Harry nodded, “I doubt there’ll be a conscription notice to fight Voldemort, it’ll be like the last time; there won’t be a battle field or any real battles, there’ll be small conflicts and murders until a breaking point is reached.”

“It’ll be a war of fear,” Hermione nodded, “by failing to return to Hogwarts we’ve let them win the first battle. Now is a time for tactic, self-preservation will come later.”

“They’re right Molly,” Mr Weasley hugged her, “we can’t start on the defensive this early.”

“I just want to keep them safe,” Mrs Weasley’s voice shook as she spoke.

“It’ll be fine,” Ron smiled, “Kurt never lets us do anything fun.”

“Let’s not canonise me either,” Kurt chuckled, “but speaking of destroying happiness, regulation haircuts all across the board; Boys, above the ear and collar; girls, bangs above your eyebrows and hair longer than shoulder length must be clipped back or worn up.”

“You can’t be serious,” Ron chuckled.

Kurt narrowed his gaze, “clean, short nails. I will be docking points and handing out detentions on the Hogwarts Express for all of those who fail to comply.”

Sirius shook his head, “let’s get back to the matter at hand, Remus.”

“We also believe that You-Know-Who is after something,” Remus spoke in a whisper that was barely audible from their end of the table, “Something he didn’t have before.”

“A weapon?” Harry’s eyes grew greedily wide.

Remus shrugged and turned to Sirius who took the baton, “In a manner of speaking-”

“That’s enough,” Mrs Weasley snapped. Kurt narrowed his gaze for a fraction of a moment, then he relaxed, “they’re only children for Merlin’s sake. If you tell them any more then you might as well induct them into the Order.”

“If Voldemort is raising an army then I want to fight,” Harry shot to his feet, “I want to be part of the Order.”

“That’s the spirit,” Sirius smirked, “you have your father’s moxy.”

“Sit down and bring it back two levels,” Kurt pulled the boy into his seat, “You have to consider whether you’ll be an asset to the Order, don’t let Sirius bate you.”

“What do you mean?” Harry shrugged Kurt’s hand off, “I want to fight.”

“Even if it is an idea of your own creation, it’s a bad one.” Kurt let out a huffed breath, “You’re fifteen, you can’t do magic outside of school and you may be able to cast a powerful spell quite well but how many spells do you know?”

“I know one that can make all your internal organs explode,” Harry grinned proudly.

Kurt shook his head, “no honey, that’s me.”

“by inducting you into the order they now have to take care of you,” Hermione gave a gentle smile, “you become a liability.”

“Besides,” Ron gave a great guffaw, “do you want to be with all the old people?”

“You’d have to do old people things like sleep at four,” George shuddered.

“And you miss out when we all go get tattoos,” Fred chuckled.

“Ron’s getting one that says ‘Kurt’,” the pair chuckled to the chagrin of their younger brother.

“No tattoos,” Mrs Weasley half scolded, half giggled.

“And if one must hang out with old people, choose Oma,” Kurt giggled, “She has pills and bourbon, and she doesn’t complain when you hog the cocaine.”

“I think it’s time for bed,” Mrs Weasley smiled, “early morning tomorrow.”

Kurt said his goodbyes and made his way to the door, arm in arm with Hermione, “So are you going to tell me?”

“Tell you?” Kurt furrowed his brow.

Hermione crossed her arms indignantly, “you can feign ignorance to the ends of the earth but I know you know something.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” Kurt shook his head.

“She’s talking about the way your whole body tensed up when Lupin mentioned the thing You-Know-Who is looking for,” Charlie grinned at the pair from his seat on the stairs.

“Oh Charles,” Kurt pursed his lips, “Do you often pay attention to my body?”

There was a pregnant pause, “you can distract Hipster Weasley with your body but I’m immune.” Hermione crossed her arms angrily, “You have to tell me.”

“I thought I knew where they were going with the conversation and one of my suspicions would be confirmed,” Kurt shook his head, “that’s all, I don’t have a direct line to the Dark Lord’s hideout- contrary to popular belief- he doesn’t share his plans with me.”

“I’m-” Hermione was quiet for a moment, “I see.”

~0~

“ _Going back to Hogwarts baby_ ,” Finn crooned from the other end of the bench seat of his father’s SUV, “ _Gonna get an education. Going back to Hogwarts baby, Gonna get educated_!”

Harley giggled and clapped her hands, Kurt rolled his eyes, “I’m going to give you detention if you don’t stop singing that crappy jingle.”

“On what charge?” His father chuckled from the passenger’s seat.

“Insubordination,” Kurt smirked.

“ _Not a real word_ ,” Finn belted dramatically, tickling Harley, “ _why is Kurt making up words Harley Drew Hummel_?”

“It’s a real word sweetheart,” Carole sighed as she reversed into a parking spot, “insubordination is an act of defiance to an authority.”

“ _I will take the matter up with Hermione Jean Granger_ ,” Finn carried on singing, “ _till then I will hear no further argument from Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, Carole Hudson or Albert Bartholomew James Hummel_.” Finn took a deep breath, “ _Rigel Cygnus LeStrange, Velma Jade Hummel and Harley Drew Hummel are free to say more_.”

Kurt side-eyed him and said nothing as the boy loaded both their bags into a trolley and pushed it through the maze of Kings Cross Station, he fixed Harley to his hip, “Harley, don’t let those two have any more kids.”

“No kids,” Harley nodded, “inheritance.”

“Did that baby just say inheritance?” his father glared at the pair of them.

“Toddler,” Harley growled.

“Oh hell no,” his father leaned over and took the three-year-old from Kurt, “I don’t need to raise you again, it was fun the first time but it’s definitely one of those things you can only handle once in a lifetime.”

“That’s so sweet,” Kurt smiled, “but I only see Harley a few months a year, I didn’t teach her that.”

Harley pulled her ash blonde hair into her mouth and chewed playfully, she set her sights on Velma, “fire.”

“I’m sorry your honour but I choose not to answer so as not to incriminate myself,” Kurt raised his hands in surrender. His father and he had a stare off, their attention was drawn from each other but Velma’s crying.

“I don’t know what’s happened to her pacifier,” Carole looked around her.

“ _Harley has it_ ,” Finn sang before melting off into a scat rendition _A Million Love Songs_.

“How did you get that?” his father crooned at Harley in his baby voice, gently pulling it from her lips.

“Want,” Harley screamed, the pacifier returned to between her lips.

“Which one of you two is doing that?” Carole snapped as she tried to soothe a crying Velma.

“Wasn’t me,” Finn shook his head, disappearing onto platform nine and three quarters.

“I’m a Prefect now,” Kurt spoke as they phased onto the platform, “It is my job to enforce the rules, not break them.”

“Not another one,” Burt shook his head, “you’re telling me that in eight years I’m going to be back here? Doing this again? Have I not walked through enough walls?”

“You’ll be like a hundred then,” Finn chuckled, he got a reproachful look from Burt, “I’m going to go put our bags on the train.”

“It’ll be fine,” Kurt smiled, “by then I’ll be a full blown wizard and Finn can help you with all that.”

“I really felt like that was going a different direction,” Carole chuckled, “We have to go find a second pacifier because if we take that one from Harley, it’ll start a screaming contest.”

“We love you,” his father hugged him tightly, “have fun prefecting those Slytherins into submission.”

“I get to Prefect everyone into submission,” Kurt grinned.

“Make something up to tell Finn we said,” Carole smiled, “I think if we don’t do something about this crying baby it might constitute child abuse.”

Kurt waved them off, he turned to see Tracey Davis gaping at him, “You have got to be kidding me, Hummel? They made you a prefect?”

“It’s an anagram for perfect,” Kurt smiled, “what did you expect?”

“I’m not sure what I’ve done to deserve this,” she stares at him impassively, “The gay muggleborn and the black half-blood, I can already here the affirmative action jokes.”

“And I can hear the screams of fear when I set them on fire,” Kurt let out a jovial sigh, “and you can’t blame me for your failure to select better friends.”

“Better?” Tracey gave a false chuckle, “please tell me you don’t mean Weasley, Potter and the weird blonde girl, Granger I can stomach but I can’t for the life of me think of how you stomach those misfits.”

“That is a terrible thing to say about anyone’s friends,” Kurt gasped, “that should make me hate you but there’s something likable about you.”

“I know,” she chuckled, it was real this time, “my dad says it’s dead look I get in my eyes when I’m being truly awful.”

“My dad says the crowd pleaser is the way I can look down on someone twice my height,” Kurt giggled, “he says the true jewel is when I make people crumble with a single displeased glance.”

“Once, Crabbe wouldn’t leave his room because you gave him one of those looks,” she chuckled again.

“I remember,” Kurt had to cover his mouth because he was laughing so hard, “the confusing part was that I was in the room.”

He and Tracey took deep breaths and regained their composure, “Never speak of it again?”

“Agreed,” Kurt nodded and they went off in opposite directions. Kurt walked briskly, wanting to be seated before the train started moving. Kurt quickly found his friends, “Neville! Luna! How have you been my lovelies?”

“Everyone else gets so much more affection than I do,” Ron grumbled.

“Nobody else gets to call me theirs,” Kurt spoke over Neville’s shoulder as they boy leaned forward to hug him, “You’ve grown and you have a regulation haircut.”

“My gran insisted,” Neville blushed, “she said it would begin to look like Mr Malfoy’s if it got any longer.”

“My gran insists I return her jewellery,” Kurt chuckled, “I told her that wasn’t happening.”

“My gran’s a lot more frightening than yours,” Neville shrugged. His face lit up, “you want to see my Mimbulus Mimbletonia?”

“Rahr, I’d love to,” Kurt smirked, the steam engine whistled loudly to announce their departure, “but Hermione, Ron and I have a prefects meeting to get to.” Kurt grabbed Hermione’s hand, “Another time.”

“Another country,” Neville chuckled.

“Everyone gets to say that but me,” Ron huffed.

“Maybe in another time,” Ginny grinned.

“Maybe in another country,” Harry and Luna chorused, before melting into a fit of giggles.

“Detention for all of you,” Ron grumbled.

“Remember when that was our thing,” Kurt sighed.

Hermione shook her head, “that was so long ago.”

“Where’s Finn?” Ron furrowed his brow, “I haven’t seen or heard from him since the letter telling everyone you weren’t talking.”

“He’s with his friends,” Kurt said dismissively, “mutually masturbating or whatever else they do.”

“Not a prefect?” Ron shrugged.

“Just because they made you a prefect doesn’t mean they were making just anyone a prefect,” Kurt shook his head, “Finn doesn’t have the discipline for leadership.”

“I heard he was voted captain of the quidditch team by the Hufflepuffs,” Hermione grinned.

“Real leadership,” Kurt rolled his eyes. He suddenly stopped, “that means he’ll be in Cedric’s old room.” Hermione laid a hand on his shoulder, “I wonder how he feels about that? Maybe that’s why he didn’t tell me. Wait, who’d you hear that from?”

“Anthony Ricket, on the platform”

Kurt opened the door into the prefect’s compartment, it was full but managed to be spacious. Kurt recognised a few of the prefects; Terry Boot, Padma Petil, Hannah Abbot, Ernie Macmillan and Tracey Davis from their year; Gabriel Truman from Hufflepuff, Anthony Rickett who was probably asked to replace Cedric, seventh year Slytherin Christopher Bembridge, Head boy Thomas Kennedy of Ravenclaw and Head girl Angelina Johnson. Ron made his way over to the buffet of finger foods and made himself at home.

“Good Afternoon Hermione, Kurt,” Terry took Kurt’s hand and kissed it, “you look lovely.”

“Oh Terrence, you’re too kind,” Kurt blushed, “this old one of a kind, vintage _Yves Saint Laurent_ prototype; this is nothing, you’re just being a charmer.”

“Well, you and that lovely posterior of yours make nothing look like a million quid,” he gave a terse laugh, “Are you well?”

“Exquisite,” Kurt pursed his lips, “yourself? You still unbearably straight?”

“Less and less every time I see you,” Terry purred.

“Stop it,” Kurt chuckled, “with that charm, you could be the Marquis de Sainsbury.”

“Does that mean connoisseur of fine bottoms?” the boy teased him, Kurt giggled like a school girl, “on that note, I must depart.” Terry winked and left the two of them to return to his conversation with Padma.

“What was that?” Hermione giggled, “power flirting from the nineteenth century?”

“Don’t question it,” Kurt shrugged her off as they kept walking.

“Kurt, Hermione,” Christopher gave them each a thousand-watt smile and a nod.

“Who was that?” Hermione’s gaze followed the taller boy, “Do I know him?”

“Christopher Bembridge,” Kurt grinned, “Bem’s older brother, their family are import-export tycoons, he’s the second string keeper and, if the trend continues, dux scholar.”

“He’s cute,” Hermione grinned.

“And a lot more loquacious than Viktor,” Kurt grinned. He nudged her toward the buffet where Christopher was standing next to Ron, who had made himself at home, “Go talk to him.”

“He’s a seventh year,” Hermione blushed.

“A seventh year who was flirting with you,” Kurt gave her another encouraging push, “it makes sense that he knows my name but you, that was him calling you out. Go flirt.”

Hermione squared her shoulders and walked across to where the taller boy was standing waiting for her, Kurt didn’t want to make Hermione feel uncomfortable and turned to speak to Ernie. The boy was in deep conversation with Anthony Ricket and Hannah Abbott, “Salutations to all, how were your respective summers?”

“As can be expected,” Anthony nodded with his whole body, “But you know, you need to keep moving forward.”

“Only thing you can do,” Ernie agreed with the hulking seventh year.

“It was nice of you guys to Vote for Finn for Quidditch captain,” Kurt smiled awkwardly, if there was one thing that had happened since he started speaking is that he got tired of exchanging stories about how they were all coping with Cedric’s death. Kurt noted that this didn’t jolt the conversation into gear, “I’d have thought you’d take the role Anthony, being a more senior member of the team and all.”

“I’m leaving at the end of this year, I don’t think my tenure would have had the impact the team needs in terms of finding a new blood,” Anthony shook his head, “we all decided we needed someone who would stay the course and make decisions that would last beyond this year.”

“That’s a lot of thought to put into a sport,” Kurt furrowed his brow.

“For some people it’s more than just a sport,” Anthony chuckled, “I got scouted by the Tutshill Tornados, it’s kind of my career of choice.”

“Congratulations,” Kurt smiled more genuinely this time.

Ernie nodded his agreement, “Yes, when are you telling the team?”

“I’m waiting for the first practice,” Anthony shrugged, “let Finn find his legs before stealing his thunder.”

Kurt’s attention was drawn away from their conversation by Thomas tapping a champagne glass with a teaspoon, “Winston,” he turned to the sixth year Ravenclaw prefect, “Will you make sure everyone’s glasses are charged.”

With a quick wave of his wand everyone had a glass in their hands and the champagne bottles moved around filling the glasses, “done.”

“Let’s begin the year with a toast,” Thomas flashed a smile that dazzled without being attractive, “To a year of cooperation and prosperity; by working together as a well organised unit we will implement a regime that leaves behind a legacy, one of an exemplary discipline record. By working together and consistently we will be able to root out disciplinary problems at their inception, you’ve all been given a copy of my five-year plan for disciplinary reform; read it, know it, live it. For now we toast a great year and a greater legacy.” There was polite applause, “Angelina will assign you your duties for this evening, and give you a run-down of the expectations and privileges that come with being a prefect.”

“Thank you. Duties for this evening are as follows,” Angelina’s tone was terse, “Fifth years are on First year duty; make sure they all find and follow Professor Grubbly-Plank to the boats, keep them quite and in order during the feast and sorting ceremony, and showing them to their dorms.” Kurt nodded as he made mental note as to what needed to be done, “Sixth years; you’re working the train and making sure that the luggage makes it up to the castle in an orderly fashion, you will oversee the process. Seventh years, keep order with the rest of the student body, be on the prowl for uniform infractions.” Angelina nodded to herself, “Privileges include prefects’ bathrooms, a prefects’ lounge and extended visits to Hogsmead. Duty lists will be posted on all noticeboards and delivered to all your rooms. I suggest you all get changed as we’ll be arriving soon.”

“That’s my line,” Hermione whispered, having made her way to his side.

~0~

Kurt stepped off the train and began to corral the loitering students, “First years follow Professor Grubbly-Plank, second years follow the rest of the student body to the carriages.” Kurt ushered groups of first years off the platform and onto the dock where the elderly substitute teacher was waiting for them.

A small boy with brown hair tugged on his robes, “I can’t swim Mr Sir.”

“You don’t have to swim,” Kurt smiled, “And it’s Mr Hummel.”

“How will I beat the giant squid if I don’t swim?” the boy furrowed his brow.

“You don’t have to defeat it,” Kurt giggled, “you just have to sit in the boat to the other side.”

The boy gazed up at Kurt in bewilderment, “How will I be put into a house?”

“An enchanted hat does that,” Kurt smiled, “other than your inability to swim, how would you beat a giant squid? You don’t know any magic.”

The boy looked as though Kurt had blown his mind as he got into the boat, Kurt made his way back up to the train station entrance. Most of the students had cleared out with two carriages remaining, the one was populated by his fellow fifth year prefects and the other his friends, “Why are you loitering?” Kurt’s voice was sharp as he reprimanded his friends.

“What are they?” Harry mumbled in bewilderment.

Kurt furrowed his brow, “I don’t understand.”

“Harry’s lost his mind,” Ginny shook her head, “Thinks there’s something pulling the carriages.”

Kurt turned to Harry in shock, “You couldn’t see them all this time.”

“You see them too?”

“Yes,” Kurt furrowed his brow, “You can only see them if you’ve seen death.”

“You’re telling me I can see these things because I saw Cedric die,” Harry’s eyes grew wide.

“You’re telling me you couldn’t see them after you-” Kurt’s voice trailed off, “what happened to Professor Quirrel?”

“I never saw Professor Quirrel die,” Harry shook his head, “I passed out remember.”

Kurt nodded, “I have to go meet the first years on the other side.” Kurt shook his head this time, “Hermione and Ron’ll have to ride with you guys, the other carriage is short one person and there’s no sense in both carriages waiting for an argument that will ultimately result in me riding with my fellow prefects.”

Harry looked around nervously, “okay?”

Kurt rolled his eyes and turned on his heels, he climbed into the nearly full carriage and they were off.

“Thank you for keeping us waiting whilst you were having a moment with the boy who lies,” Tracey sneered from the seat opposite his, “it was what we all wanted.”

“I was doing my job and asking them why they were loitering,” Kurt pursed his lips, challenging her to say more.

There was an awkward silence for a while until Ernie decided to break it, “so, it looks like it might rain soon.”

“Yes,” Hannah nodded, “I hope it does, I love the rain.”

“And now we might get caught in it because we waited forever and a day for Hummel,” Tracey mumbled.

“I don’t mind waiting for Kurt in the least,” Terry leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “even if it means a little rain.”

“I know you're well-meaning but please be quiet,” Kurt flashed him a smile, he turned to Tracey, “the same goes for you. I kept you waiting, please do get over it.”

“I think it would be easier for Tracey to move past this if you appeared a tad more apologetic,” Padma suggested, barely turning to face them as she spoke- a testimony to her disinterest in the situation.

“You want me to get over it,” Tracey arched a brow, “Tell us why Potter continues to lie about You-Know-Who’s return? Does he feel his fame was starting to fade or is he covering the truth of Diggory’s death?”

“I can’t say,” Kurt shrugged, “Given that I believe him about the Dark Lord’s return and the murder of Cedric Diggory.”

“You’re supposed to be smart,” Tracey scoffed.

The carriage was silent, everyone was listening; Kurt had to choose his words carefully because what he told these five would be what most people heard, “my choice to believe Harry Potter is a sign of my intelligence. Other than the fact that his story of what transpired that night was confirmed by the man who was pretending to be Professor Moody whilst he was under the influence of Veritaserum, Harry has nothing to gain from pretending Voldemort is back; on the coat tails of the Triwizard Tournament it only served to turn people against him.” Kurt gave a small smile, “Let us also remember that it was because she was possessed by Voldemort, that Ginny Weasley opened the Chamber of Secrets, if he could do that while he was ‘dead’ then I believe he can return.” Kurt knew this was an over simplification of the truth but it served the purpose, “I believe it because more and more evidence to support it will keep coming out of the wood work.”

“Harry Potter I might have doubted but some of the smartest people we know believe him,” Ernie shrugged, “that must count for something.”

“If he is back,” Padma cleared her throat, “what do we do about it?”

“There’s not much to be done but stay vigilant and prepared,” Kurt said with a nod.

“If you’re muggleborn you should probably start thinking about what you’ll do when things get bad,” Hannah’s voice was small and shaky.

“I’m not afraid,” Kurt smiled, he might have been a pureblood but to the world he was still muggleborn and he had to show face so people knew that there was still hope, “things will get bad but it’s always darkest before the dawn.”

As they were disembarking Tracey grabbed his shoulder firmly, “you should be afraid, if you and Potter are correct then you’ve singled yourself out countless times as an enemy of his cause.”

“Oh Tracey,” Kurt shook his head condescendingly, “I’m terrified. I can’t show it, I need to keep face so as to curb panic; I would be on the first flight out of this country if I hadn’t inadvertently put myself in the thick of it by choosing the friends I did.”

“Maybe you are smart,” she gave him a small smile.

“I might spend my days with Gryffindors but I was put into Slytherin for a reason,” Kurt smirked proudly, “and it’s not my blood status.” Kurt nodded his head in the direction of the door, “never speak of it again?”

“I’ll have to get back to you on that one,” she rolled her eyes, “you’re kind of growing on me, like a fungus.”

Kurt side-eyed her as they climbed the grand staircase, it was not the most flattering description but it was an accurate one of how they were coming to tolerate each other. They entered the great hall and took seats opposite each other at the Slytherin long table, no sooner were they seated that the first years were led into the great hall by Professor McGonagall. The tiny first years entered in single file, none of them were wet like Denis had been the previous year but they were all just as fascinated by the bewitched ceiling.

They filed into an ordered mass when they reached the front of the great hall, Kurt watched them bounce excitedly as the sorting hat sung his song. Kurt scoffed when the hat reached the part about Ravenclaw wanting to teach only the intelligent, he looked around the great hall and thought of how poor the enrolment would be if her wishes had been honoured but he also wondered if the curriculum would be better if that were so. Professor McGonagall called the first years one at a time, the first called was Owen Boot- who Kurt presumed to be Terry’s younger brother. After sitting on the chair for less than a minute, he was placed in Slytherin which seemed to please. Kurt watched attentively as the students were called out in alphabetical order, his attention was piqued when the boy who’d spoken to him in the dock climbed the stairs; Gerard Runcorn.

The sorting hat seem to think deeply, mulling over whatever the frightened boy was made of and what he had to say about that, it seemed to take into careful consideration all that it had been presented with. Kurt overheard Draco behind him telling his friends that the boy would be in Slytherin because their fathers were friends; Kurt disagreed, a Slytherin wouldn’t have been gullible enough to believe that they’d have to fight a giant squid, they would probably be at the root of such rumours- especially if they were pure-blood. The sorting hat announced that the boy was in Ravenclaw and relief seemed to wash over him, whether it was because he had received the house of his choosing or from being spared of having to tell his parents he was in Hufflepuff or Gryffindor.

Kurt watched the remainder of the sorting ceremony with mild interest, the only other sorting worth note was a hat stall by a little dark haired girl named Renée Van Diaz; she was sorted into Gryffindor and she rolled her eyes like Kurt wanted to. When the sorting ceremony was done Professor Dumbledore took the floor and Kurt actually rolled his eyes this time; it wasn’t because he no longer respected the man, the respect they had for each other could not be broken no matter how they disagreed, it was because Kurt wasn’t in the mood for half-truths.

“Good evening and welcome to another year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” Professor paused for applause, “To begin, a few changes in staff; Professor Grubbly-Plank will be filling in for Professor Hagrid as professor of Care for Magical Creatures whilst he takes a sabbatical to care for his health.” He nodded, as if doing so affirmed the tale in everyone’s mind, “Professor Umbridge will be taking the position of professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts, after Professor Moody’s departure. We wish her luc-”

The squat toad like woman cleared her throat in a very conspicuous manner, when the headmaster turned to look at her, she took this as an invitation to take the floor, “Thank you Professor Dumbledore for those kind words of welcome, we at the ministry have an invested interest in Hogwarts school of Wizardry and Witchcraft.” The woman gave a shrill voice that seemed to be amplified by her bright pink ensemble, “While every headmaster has brought with them an individual style of leadership, it is the ministry’s job to preserve practices that ought to be preserved, prune practices that ought to be pruned and prohibit practices that ought to be prohibited.”

“Thank you for that Professor Umbridge,” Professor Dumbledore stared at her in bewilderment, “Whatever that was.”


	4. Chapter 4

Kurt sat filling out his detention ledger with the particulars of his detention slip stumps as they waited for Professor Umbridge to arrive, it was only the first day of lessons but people had accumulated a great number of infraction over the weekend between their arrival and the present. Kurt had been stationed in the ground floor landing of the grand staircase along with Hermione, because the head prefects knew better than to separate them. He had punished juniors for horseplay in the corridors and seniors for dress code violations, he had given out so many detentions that he had volunteered to take Professor Snape’s detentions. Fred and George had accused him of letting power go to his head when he’d written them up for uniform infractions, Kurt begged to differ as he felt he was simply doing his job to the best of his ability; he could not be blamed for having abilities greater than most.

His peers weren’t as dedicated to their new duties or the new academic year as he was, Hermione and the rest of the prefects had barely reprimanded any students, and now the entirety of their Defence Against the Dark arts class was lounging about. Kurt refused to partake in the folding of parchment into all manner of enchanted flying contraptions; Hermione had managed to make a helicopter, shaming Draco who was quite proud of his sparrow. It was sudden- and all the fifth years were caught unawares- when both the sparrow and the helicopter burst into flames, eyes moved as quickly to Kurt as they did to Professor Umbridge when she cleared her throat.

The woman wore a bright purple heavily weaved wool dress that was awful to behold and entirely unflattering, she spoke in the same voice she had used last night; smooth, high pitched and authoritative but that still managed to make you feel like you were being harangued even at its softest, “Good morning fifth years, this is a very important year in your wizarding education as this is the year when you sit for your Ordinary Wizarding Level examinations, also known as you OWLs.” She gave a false smile, “The ministry has appointed me due to the slipping standards as a result of your uneven curriculum, together we will achieve the best result by following a better structured and ministry approved curriculum.”

A small brightly covered book landed before each of them, Kurt eyed the cover and rolled his eyes, Hermione raised her hand, “Professor Umbridge, this book is on conflict resolution, it doesn’t have any content to the effect of using defensive spells.”

“That is correct,” she spoke as she walked around the class room, her teaching style felt like she had read too many self-help books on effective management. She leaned in too far forward and varied her eye-contact too much as if she were attempting to make everyone feel like they were in an intimate meeting with her, “The ministry feels that a sound and well-rounded theoretical understanding of conflict resolution is sufficient to prepare you for your OWLs.”

“Sufficient?” Mandy’s spoke, her voice terse as Lisa beside her clutched her chest.

“Yes,” Professor Umbridge gave a soft smile that made her look like she’d spotted her dinner, “Sufficient to ensure that those who work hard will excel.” Mandy let out a sigh of relief, “By providing the information necessary for dealing with conflict in a controlled and secure environment, I will be able to best equip you for your examinations.”

“What good is that?” Harry snapped, Kurt couldn’t help rolling his eyes, “If we’re going to be attacked, it’s not going to be in a secure and controlled environment.”

“You will raise your hands before speaking in my classroom,” Professor Umbridge snapped back before dressing herself back in the fallacy of her sweet demeanour, “It is the ministry’s understanding that a theoretical understanding of the subject matter will be sufficient to prepare you for your examinations.” She gave a small sharp giggle as she glared down at Harry from beside his seat, “besides, who would want to attack children?”

“Oh, let me think,” Harry glared back at her, “Voldemort.”

There was a round of gasps and Professor Umbridge shook her head, “you have all been told by Harry Potter and his friends that a certain dark wizard is once more at large, this is a lie.”

“If it’s a lie, then Cedric Diggory just dropped dead?” Harry shouted back at the woman who and moved across the classroom.

“What happened to Mr Diggory was a terrible accident that was a result of the poor judgement of Professor Dumbledore and Ludo Bagman,” her voice was almost hypnotising with its lulling shrillness, “the ministry has taken precautions to prevent a tragedy of this kind from occurring again; Ludo Bagman has been removed from his post and the Triwizard Tournament is once more restricted in Britain.”

“Cedric’s death wasn’t an accident, he was murdered by Voldemort,” Harry looked directly at Kurt as he spoke, as if willing him to say something to corroborate his story. Kurt stared back at him blankly, “Denying it doesn’t make it any less true.”

“That’s enough Mr Potter,” Her voice was level, “Detention.” She let out a huffed breath, “your fear mongering and lies are not welcome here at Hogwarts. You’ve disrupted my class and as a result I will dismiss you early but I expect the first chapter copied in triplicate and on my desk tomorrow morning, you will also be required to right a thousand-word essay on proper classroom etiquette for tomorrow morning.”

There was a round of groans. Kurt packed his things as his peers began to leave, a shadow was cast over his desk and he looked up to see Harry Potter looking down at him, “I haven’t the time to chat, I have three essays to write and a shit load of studying to get through before I have to be at my post for prefect duty.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Harry hissed at him.

“There was nothing for me to say,” Kurt shook his head as he took long strides out into the corridor.

“You could have backed me up,” Harry snapped, without raising his voice above a whisper.

“And said what?” Kurt stopped in his tracks and glared at the green eyed boy, “I have to appear sane so that when I tell people I believe you they don’t believe we’ve both lost our minds, you’re making enough of a spectacle of yourself for the both of us.” Kurt shook his head, “maybe try keeping a low profile, screaming across classrooms makes you seem desperate and unhinged; you’re writing The Daily Prophet’s slander for them.”

“But-” Harry began but Kurt raised a silencing finger.

“I don’t know any more than what you’ve told me,” Kurt reminded him, “Technically speaking, I don’t have grounds on which to back you up.”

Harry gaped at him, “Kurt-”

“I bet you wish I was silent now,” Kurt chuckled, “Now, be gone before I write you up for your sloppy dress.”

~0~

Kurt concentrated on the task at hand, he created each stitch with precision and determination- it had to be perfect. Kurt was a slow knitter but he made up for his short-comings with perfect results and by enchanting, with the help of Hermione, several sets of knitting needles to mimic what his hands were doing and produce winter goodies for the house elves as he was. Hermione was enchanting the labels and sowing them onto the inside in a similar fashion and Denis sat cross legged, folding the assortment of jumpers, hats and socks. It was just the three of them working because Spew had lost its popularity; Professor Burbage was no longer forcing her students to attend as she’d lost the authority to do so, in his death Cedric could no longer compel his friends to be present and Kurt had told Finn that he need not do the same, the remainder of their numbers had been chased away by the slander campaign against Harry. Over the click of knitting needles and occasional snap of thread, there was soft chatting.

“Did you learn spells in second year?” Denis peered at the pair curiously.

Hermione shook her head, “not in Defence Against the Dark Arts, we had Professor Lockhart, a world famous wizard.”

“He was too wrapped up in his ego to teach us anything,” Kurt giggled, “little did most know, that ego was a veil to hide his incompetence; he was a fraud, he’d stolen his feats from other wizards.”

“I didn’t want to fall behind,” Denis looked back down to concentrate on his task, “Professor Umbridge isn’t teaching us to use magic, Colin says that you were teaching Duelling Club when you were in second year.”

“I was assisting,” Kurt corrected.

“You might as well have been teaching,” Hermione smiled softly, “Professor Lockhart didn’t know his ear from his elbow.”

“Collin says Harry Potter should have taught,” Denis shook his head, “I think he’s out of his mind.”

“Oh Denis,” Kurt smiled, “You’re so kind. Next time Collin says that, you tell him that he doesn’t know because he never came to any of my duelling club meetings.” Kurt beckoned the boy closer, “don’t tell anyone this but, I petrified him because he was a fan someone other than me.”

Denis giggled, “I’ll take it to my grave.”

“Denis,” Hermione nodded to herself as she spoke, “would you mind terribly, taking this batch of goods to Gryffindor tower? Hannah and Padma will be along soon to relieve and it would be best if we didn’t start a new batch.”

“Of course,” Denis grinned broadly, “should I get you anything on my way up?”

“No, we’re fine,” she gave him the kind of smile one’s mother gives them when she’s setting their feelings at ease, “thank you.”

Kurt watched the short boy bounce away from them, once he was around the corner he turned to Hermione, “What’s up?”

“Have you noticed anything about Harry?” Hermione twiddled her thumbs nervously, looking as uncomfortable as Kurt’s father at an Alaïa sale.

“Nothing I wasn’t expecting,” Kurt shook his head, “no. Why?”

“That’s alright then,” Hermione nodded, her shoulders slumped but a smile on her face.

“What is it I was supposed to notice?” Kurt narrowed his gaze, “he doesn’t appear to be on drugs, should I check between his fingers and toes for tracks?”

“No,” Hermione shook her head, “let it go.”

“You know very well I won’t let it go,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “You brought it up because you want me to know, you want to consult me on the matter. Tell me.”

“It’s not my place,” Hermione stared at the hat in her hands intently.

“When have we ever let that stop us?” Kurt smirked, “tell me because I don’t want to be blindsided by this later.”

“It’s about his detention,” Hermione whispered, “Umbridge has him writing lines and well… he’s writing the lines in his own blood and the words are being carved into the back of his hand.”

“I’m sorry,” Kurt shook his head, “what?”

“He’s writing lines with some special quill that does it in his blood,” Hermione threw her head into her hands, “she’s torturing him.”

Kurt nodded slowly, “We have to tell Professor Snape or Professor McGonagall.”

“Harry doesn’t want to bother anyone with the matter,” Hermione pleaded.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kurt’s tone was dismissive, “we have to tell a teacher, Harry doesn’t know what’s best for him.”

“I’m sure he’d disagree,” Hermione scoffed.

“I’m sure he would but we’re not consulting him,” Kurt grinned, “we’re doing what we believe is best.”

Hermione shook her head, “I’m not sure how wise that is.”

Kurt smiled broadly, “we’re following due process.”

Hermione nodded, “then it’ll have to be Professor McGonagall.”

Realisation struck Kurt, “Is that why he’s been wearing the gloves I got him for his birthday even though it hasn’t cooled down enough?” Hermione nodded solemnly, “I thought it was because he was trying to win my favour, trying to get me to come out publicly on his side.”

Hermione shook her head, “why?”

“Why what?” Kurt quirked his brow as they got up to make way for Hannah and Padma.

“Why haven’t you come out in support of him?” Hermione’s voice seemed to nudge him as they walked side by side toward the great hall for dinner.

“I support him on a smaller scale,” Kurt nodded to himself, “I’m waiting for an endorsement from the ministry before I come out more publicly.”

“An endorsement?” Hermione furrowed her brow, “What makes you think you’ll get that?”

Kurt smirked, “Cornelius Fudge and the Prophet will portray me in a positive light any day now, and on the wings of that I will come out in support of Harry. They’ll look like fools if they try to withdraw their endorsement.”

“You just have a feeling?” Hermione scoffed.

“I know for certain,” Kurt smiled malevolently, “I’ve been well behaved, I’ve distanced myself from Professor Dumbledore and I’m sure word has gotten around that I haven’t supported Harry Potter yet this academic year.”

“Granger, Hummel,” Tracey waved them over as soon as they entered the dining hall.

“Did Tracey Davis just say my name?” Hermione hissed in his ear.

Kurt’s smile broadened, “Being invited over by Slytherins, you must feel so hip.” Kurt lead Hermione over to where Tracey was sitting with her charms notes spread out before her, “Good evening Tracey, what’s up?”

“I was reviewing the notes I compiled on compounded spell casting,” she smiled up at them, “and I think I’m ready to discuss, you two said at a later date.” She schooled her features so they were dead serious, “It’s a later date.”

“Indeed it is,” Hermione nodded, dropping onto the bench of the Slytherin Long table, “and luckily for you, I made a few note as well.” She smiled up at Kurt as she took the seat beside Tracey and gestured for Kurt to take the seat opposite them, “now, what do you have?”

“Well,” Tracey gave a small smile, her voice ashy like a smoker’s, “the simplest way of going about it would be simultaneous spell casting, multiple spell caster works on the enchantments at the same time. This would imbue the selected properties into the item in question.”

“That, whilst serving the purpose, would only be as good as your weakest spell caster,” Hermione nodded to herself.

“Say more,” Tracey egged her on.

“Imagine if it were you, Kurt, Seamus Finnegan and I casting the enchantments together. Seamus has inconsistent spell casting results and that would skew the outcomes of the enchantments,” Hermione smiled.

“Seamus gets consistent results,” Kurt giggled, “Consistently disastrous. I think he might be a bigger pyromaniac than I am.”

Tracey giggled, “Finnegan’s ineptitude aside, what do you suggest Granger?”

“I suggest the layering of spells, in order of the properties each will imbue,” Hermione nodded to herself, “this should be done by a single spell caster. This will insure a more consistent result.”

Tracey shook her head, “that’s just sequential spell casting, the properties would all exist at once but that’s not what I’m talking about.” Tracey stared at him, “what do you think Hummel?”

Kurt nodded slowly, “a single caster could cast all the spells at once.”

“I considered that but,” Tracey bit her lip, “I don’t think it’s possible.”

“Not at fifth year level skill,” Kurt shook his head, “but a more trained wizard could manage it.”

Tracey tilted her head slightly, she quirked her brow curiously, “How?”

“This is theoretical,” Kurt nodded to himself as his mind worked, “there are a number of skill that you could use to allow you to do it; if the spells are cast non verbally then you can ‘say’ all the incantations on top of each other.”

“I see,” Tracey pursed his lips, “using a wand and wandless magic to cast the spells at the same time.”

“I’m not saying just anyone could do it,” Kurt suddenly, “solving this was easy because we’re brilliant and beautiful.”

“What does our beauty have to do with spell casting?” Tracey furrowed her brows.

“Don’t interrupt my train of thought,” Kurt shook his head, “significant brain capacity and concentration will be necessary to carry the task out, a level of skill beyond that necessary for the mastery of wandless magic, duel spell casting and non-verbal spell casting.”

“Talent?” Tracey scoffed, “you’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

“For some magic comes more easily,” Kurt shrugged.

Hermione shook her head, “Are you telling me that our brilliance isn’t enough?”

“Not alone,” Kurt shook his head.

“Please don’t say Harry Potter,” Tracey shook her head.

“I wouldn’t dare,” Kurt chuckled, “Brilliance might not be primary but it is integral.” Kurt smiled villainously, “the skill set required to master this kind of magic calls for a very skilled wizard.”

“But we’ve only given the idea some thought,” Hermione self-satisfactorily pursed her lips.

“Did we-” Tracey giggled, her grin matching Kurt’s, “did we just create a new branch of magic? Or at the very least a new way of enacting enchantments.”

Kurt shook his head, “we didn’t do shit, you did this.” Kurt surveyed the room quickly, “I see Professor McGonagall, please may I be excused.”

~0~

“I’m surprised you guys still have time to eat,” Ron spoke around a mouth full of sausage.

“Considering we actually do our Prefect duties,” Kurt scoffed.

“That,” Ron nodded, “and you guys are always whispering and knitting and with Denis.”

“You almost sound jealous,” Hermione teased.

“Of knitting?” Ron’s voice was sharp.

“Of Denis,” Kurt chuckled, “And with good reason. He’s charming, adorable and witty.”

“Kind and so polite,” Hermione nodded to herself.

“Are you questioning my authority to punish students for infractions in my own classroom?” Kurt’s attention was drawn to Professor Umbridge who stood at the head table beside Professor McGonagall.

“Not at all,” Professor McGonagall kept her voice low, conscious of the presence of students, “I merely mean to question your methods. As head of house and deputy headmaster, the well-being of students is always my concern.”

“To question my authority, is to question the authority of the ministry,” Professor Umbridge seemed to grow as she spoke, “and by doing so you question the Minister himself. I am a tolerant woman but one thing I will not tolerate is disloyalty.”

“Disloyalty?” Professor McGonagall looked like she’d been caught breaking into homes and eating babies.

Professor Umbridge turned to address the masses, “things at Hogwarts are far worse than I ever imagined, I will urge Cornelius to take immediate action.”

They all watched Professor Umbridge storm out, Kurt and Harry exchanged a look, “You told her.”

“You weren’t going to do it,” Kurt shrugged.

“You had no right,” Harry shouted, wagging his finger in Kurt’s face.

Kurt shook his head, “I had every right.”

“Oh yeah,” Harry crossed his arms and Kurt chuckled, “on what grounds?”

“I’m your friend and your well-being means something to me,” Kurt shook his head.

“Granted,” Harry nodded, “but why’d you have to tell Professor McGonagall?”

Kurt rolled his eyes, “Because she’s your head of house, while you are at school your well-being is her responsibility.” Kurt shrugged, “it’s also proper procedure when a teacher acts out of turn to take the matter up with your respective head of house, given your history with Professor Snape I thought it indecorous to take the matter up with him.”

“Indecorous,” Ron echoed, he chuckled to himself but was startled by the mail landing in front of him, “I’m okay.”

“Is it another stack of letters from Kurt’s desire of suitors?” Hermione giggled.

“Desire?” Harry furrowed his brow.

“Suitors?” Ron echoed with a similar facial expression.

“There was no collective noun for suitors,” Hermione shrugged, “Tracey decided that a desire of suitors had the right impact.”

“Tracey Davis? The Slytherin girl?” Ron furrowed her brow, “You all chummy with her now?”

“She’s really smart and really pretty,” Kurt shrugged, “why wouldn’t we get along with her.”

“Proximity helps,” Hermione nodded to herself, “She’s a prefect and so are we.”

“Who is in your desire of suitors?” Harry quirked a brow.

“Nobody as interesting as Viktor Krum or Christopher Bembridge,” Kurt giggled, “what I wouldn’t give to have a world famous quidditch player and a dux scholar after me.”

Hermione took a bite of her toast, “Don’t forget the famous quidditch player in the making.”

“How could I forget Anthony Rickett,” Kurt giggled, “his biceps are amongst the best I’ve ever seen.”

“Well, now we know who is in Hermione’s desire of suitors,” Harry rolled his eyes, eyeing the package that sat between him and Kurt, “but who is in yours?”

“The Auror in training Noah Puckerman,” Hermione giggled, “Gregory Goyle, Terry Boot-”

“Nobody knows if Terry is a suitor,” Kurt shook his head, “I think he’s just a flirt by nature.”

“Maybe,” Hermione furrowed her brow, then shook her head, “but his obsession with your posterior definitely qualifies him.”

“I’m sorry I asked,” Harry shook his head, “who is the parcel from?”

Kurt eyed the card and smiled victoriously, “It’s not from any of my suitors.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Hermione snatched the card and her smile fell, “it’s from Charles.”

“Prince Charles?” Ron furrowed his brow.

“No,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “Your brother Charles.”

“Why is Hipster Weasley sending you parcels?” Hermione shook her head.

“Apparently because it made him think of Kurt,” Harry giggled as he eyed the card, having snatched it from Hermione.

“Why is my brother thinking of you?” Ron pointed an accusatory finger, “is he suitoring you?”

“Most certainly not,” Kurt shook his head and opened the box, inside was an ebony frame with curled reddish-purple cane inside.

“What is it?” Harry furrowed his brow.

“A dragon heart string,” Hermione’s eyes were wide.

“A petrified dragon heart string,” Kurt corrected.

“Why would my brother send you a petrified dragon heart string?”

“Because I suggested petrification as a means of preserving dragon carcases for study,” Kurt shrugged, “I wrote a paper on it over the summer, after Charles told me about the difficulty they had keeping cadaver specimens fresh without altering their chemistry.” Kurt smiled, “I mailed him my paper and apparently it has been a success.”

“Such a success,” Hermione’s jaw went slack as she scanned the letter that she’d pulled out from the bottom of the box, “that you’ve been offered a position at the dragon sanctuary upon your graduation.”

“How did you know to suggest that?” Harry eyed him suspiciously, “How could you think of it when so many more qualified wizards hadn’t considered the idea?”

“Firstly, because I have more experience with the petrification of living flesh. Secondly, it’s a spell I’ve had in my arsenal for years,” Kurt smirked, “and lastly, because I’m more willing to experiment with dark magic than most more qualified wizards.”

“That doesn’t explain why my brother was thinking of you,” Ron growled.

“Because they recently started implementing Kurt’s idea and your brother was working with petrified flesh for the first time,” Hermione explained as she read the letter, “Also Kurt once mentioned wanting to build his own wand, a wand core seemed like an appropriate gift. Regards, Charles Hector Weasley.”

“His middle name is Hector,” Kurt pursed his lips, “that’s smart.”

“Explain,” Harry frowned.

“In Arthurian legend, Hector was the foster father of King Arthur,” Kurt giggled, “Ron’s father, Arthur, has a son named Hector.”

“I don’t get it,” Harry shook his head.

“It’s like if you ended up with a girl named Sally, Ron with one name Kim, or even me with a guy named Leo,” Hermione explained, “life mirroring art? Nothing?”

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” Harry shrugged. Kurt smiled to himself but then Harry’s ears perked up, “I still think you shouldn’t have told Professor McGonagall.”

“Damn, I should have got up and left,” Kurt whispered to himself, he squared up with Harry Potter, “Listen to me, I was right to alert an adult.” Kurt reached out and took Harry’s hand, “I’m going to get quite real with you, your history with adults makes you sceptical and untrusting of them to come out in your support.”

“What-”

“I’m still speaking,” Kurt shook his head, “adults have disappointed you endlessly; your parents died and didn’t give you the childhood you deserve, your aunt and uncle are assholes, Professor Dumbledore sent you to live with those assholes, and everybody here keeps sending you back to live with said assholes.”

“We need to establish some boundaries,” Harry shook his head.

“We are beyond boundaries,” Kurt chuckled, “my point is that people, myself included, care about you beyond your status as the boy who lived.” Kurt schooled his features, “if somebody is making you carve letters into the back of your hand, it is my responsibility to ensure your wellbeing and that you are avenged.”

“You suddenly care about me being avenged?” Harry scoffed, “you sat by quietly while I was being slandered and called a liar.”

“Firstly, you used ‘slander’ correctly, congratulations.” Kurt narrowed his gaze, “secondly, I have always cared about your well-being and image.” Kurt pulled a copy of The Daily Prophet from his bag, “Turn to page six.”

Harry scanned the paper and came to a stop on the prescribed article, after a moment he spoke, “I don’t understand.”

“The minister for magic is cited as mentioning me as one of the upstanding students of Hogwarts,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “he cites my academic brilliance, high moral fibre and my ability to make good choices as the contributing factors to my status as an exemplary member of wizarding Britain’s society.”

“What does this mean?”

“It means Kurt has a pass to say and do whatever he wants,” Hermione smiled, “by behaving for the first bit of this year he managed to convince Professor Umbridge and subsequently the Minister for Magic that he was sane.”

“I can do whatever I want now,” Kurt pursed his lips malevolently, “by keeping my wits and moving past the period of mourning, I have shown the world and the ministry that my mind isn’t dominated by the death of Cedric Diggory. What I say now, will now be seen as the beliefs of a level headed individual.”

~0~

_An Open Letter to the Minister for Magic,_

_Dear Minister, you have no clothes on. This metaphor might be lost on you because it belongs to the muggle world and references a folktale with which you might not be familiar, I will explain it to you. The metaphor means that you are showing the world just how foolish you are, your denialist attitude surrounding the events of the night of the third task of the Triwizard Tournament and Cedric Diggory death._

_I do not label a man of your stature a fool lightly, I have great respect for you and your position as Minister for Magic but I have come to a point where I cannot be silent any longer. The circumstances surrounding the disappearance of Lord Voldemort on Halloween of 1981 were far from clear cut and to an educated man like yourself it would be obvious that there was a possibility he might return. Yet and still you remain obstinate on the matter of The Dark Lord’s Return- one would expect better of an Order of Merlin, First Class recipient._

_The evidence to support The Dark Lord’s return might not be immediately obvious but is it not a better use of your time to investigate these claims rather than slandering a young boy with an already difficult life. The disappearance of Bertha Jorkins during her holiday in Albania, the mysterious death of the muggle caretaker of the Riddle estate Frank Bryce, the reappearance of the Dark Mark almost thirteen years after it was last seen, and the actions of Barty Crouch Jr- who was a previously presumed dead supporter of the Dark Lord- are clear indicators. Each of these events in isolation could be ignored but all together they point a firm finger to the obvious truth._

_However, I feel that your foolishness is not in your refusal to believe that Lord Voldemort has returned but rather in how you have chosen to deal with those who believe it. The smear campaign you have launched against Harry Potter is unfounded and unnecessary- as an adult, better is expected of you, as the Minister for Magic, Better is expected of you. Your foolishness and metaphorical nudity are most obvious in how you have carried yourself and how you will continue to carry yourself._

_You, yourself, have commended my academic prowess and moral fibre; I believe Harry Potter. I believe his account for the death of Cedric Diggory, The Dark Lord’s return and his encounter with the false Mad-Eye Moody. I don’t believe him in spite of my intellect, I don’t believe him because he’s my friend, I believe Harry Potter because it makes sense- why would he lie?_

_Thank you for reading my thoughts, please do allow them their due consideration as those of an upstanding citizen of wizarding Britain._

_Regards,_

_Kurt Elizabeth Hummel. Master of the Order of the White Lotus._

~0~

“Kurt Elizabeth Hummel,” Hermione threw the paper down at his feet, Luna clutch her chest in surprise, “What were you thinking? This letter is scathing at best, and condescending deformation of character at worst. This is Rita Skeeter quality work.”

“And everyone loved and believed Rita Skeeter,” Kurt countered.

“Touché,” Hermione nodded.

“Kurt’s article is also an opinion piece and draws on facts where necessary,” Luna leafed through the tome that sat before her, “he’s fully justified to write what he did, the format was a smart move as well.”

“But,” Kurt prompted her.

“I didn’t get the metaphor,” Luna admitted guiltily.

Kurt rolled his eyes, “In Hans Christian Anderson’s _The Emperor’s New Clothes_ , a vapid and selfish emperor is tricked into believing that he is having a suit made of fabric so fine that it cannot be seen by the untrained eye. He goes along, as he does not want the tailor to think less of him. They trick him into going into public nude to show how foolish he is.”

“So Fudge’s denial is the fabric,” Luna asked with a furrowed brow, “and it shows how foolish he is because it isn’t real?”

“Yes.”

“That’s really smart,” Luna gaped.

“I’m not disputing how smart it is,” Hermione shook her head, “I’m debating how wise it is.”

“Minister Cornelius Fudge’s denial will force him to resign when it comes to light that Voldemort has truly returned,” Kurt shrugged, “what he thinks of us will only matter for a few more months, his denial will make him liable for all that Voldemort will achieve in this time that might have been prevented.”

Hermione nodded, “why are you looking at empty tomes?”

“They’re not all empty,” Kurt shook his head, “there are just blanks for no apparent reason.”

“But what is it?” Hermione peered over his shoulder as she spoke.

“It’s a record of the Hogwarts curriculum and how it has changed to accommodate the times,” Luna explained.

“Why?”

“To establish precedence,” Kurt shook his head, “Hogwarts curriculum hasn’t changed to accommodate the times since indoor plumbing.”

“Apparently you don’t need precedence,” Hermione threw the afternoon edition of the prophet at them, “just a paranoid Minister.”

“Fudge’s made Professor Umbridge High Inquisitor?” Kurt’s voice was sharp.

Luna furrowed her brow, “What does that even mean?”

“It doesn’t mean computers or modernisation,” Kurt growled, “that’s for sure.”

“According to the article, she’s going to ‘revolutionise’ the teaching like she did for Defence Against Dark Arts,” Hermione looked concerned.

Kurt shook his head, “that won’t do, that won’t do at all.”


	5. Chapter 5

Kurt glared at Professor Umbridge, she and the ministry interfering with Defence Against the Dark Arts he could handle- he was more interested in practicing the dark arts than defending himself from them- but he had a serious problem with her interference in other learning areas. The High Inquisitor’s moderation of their lessons and teachers, while in the hands of an impartial observer would be a tool for improving their education, was simply an opportunity for Deloris Umbridge to undermine the authority of their teachers and ensure that the curriculum did not lend itself to creativity. She seemed to have a knack for stamping out the ember of creative ingenuity, Kurt suspected that it was born from her traditionalist and classic values.

It was Professor Flitwick’s Charms lesson that was being moderated today and Kurt wondered if Professor Umbridge had selected this particular lesson to coincide with their year’s Charms lesson. Kurt sat anxiously in his seat as he waited for the lesson to begin; Kurt was one of Professor Flitwick’s favourite students and the man was one of Kurt’s favourite teachers, Charms was also one of Kurt’s highest marks and favourite subjects; he had a lot riding on this lesson.

“Good day fifth years,” Professor Flitwick greeted them from behind his podium at the front of the class.

“Good day Professor Flitwick,” their class responded in unison.

“Today our lesson will be on basic household enchantments,” Professor Flitwick announced with a tone of glee, Professor Umbridge cleared her throat but it did not deter the charms master, “these are tricks you can use to complete basic household chores.” Professor Umbridge stepped forward and cleared her throat once more, more loudly, “Professor Umbridge will be observing and moderating this lesson.”

“Thank you Professor Flitwick,” Professor Umbridge took a step forward.

“Silently,” Professor Flitwick spoke sternly, pre-empting her speech on strong traditionalist values. Professor Umbridge held her composure but to Kurt’s well trained eyes it was obvious that he was less than pleased with the outright dismissal, “this lesson has a simple incantation but tricky syntax. There are a sequence of instructions that must be compounded into the incantation; the subject or enactor of the chore, verb or chore, a time or quantitative limit, the object to be acted on, the manner with which the chore must be carried out, the place that the chore must be carried out, and any follow up action or auxiliary information.”

A number of hands shot up but it was Neville who was called upon, “do you always have to be so specific.”

“Not always, by the time you are able to practically apply this spell in real life you will have learned non-verbal spell casting,” Professor Flitwick giggled, “you will only have to picture the chore but in the interim you will do well to be as specific as necessary.” He smiled, “Say for example you want the dishes to wash themselves, so you ask the dishcloth to wash the dishes? You haven’t told it which dishes to wash of for how long so it could potentially wash every dish in the world or just one dish over and over. You haven’t told it where to wash the dishes so it could do it in the toilet or down at the river. You haven’t told it what to do with the clean dishes so it might break them or throw them out.

“As such,” Professor Flitwick’s grin was immovable, “it is imperative that you are as specific as possible.” He moved to the left of his podium, “Let us practice the incantation and wand movements. The wand should be pointed directly at the subject until you reach the point where you name the object, where by you shift to the object until you reach the manner, and you flourish your wand clockwise and then anticlockwise.

“Let’s practice with your quill and parchment, go over the instructions in your head and move in time with them,” Kurt noticed Professor Umbridge lurking in the back and writing furiously in her notebook, a smile plastered on her face, “now, the incantation; _Objectum (_ Subject _) actum (_ Verb _) et (_ Time _) et (_ Object _) et (_ Manner _) unde (_ Place _) infinitivus (_ Infinitive _)_. Let’s go over it together.”

“ _Objectum (_ Subject _) actum (_ Verb _) et (_ Time _) et (_ Object _) et (_ Manner _) unde (_ Place _) infinitivus (_ Infinitive _)_ ” the class chorused together.

“How is this in anyway simple?” Seamus groaned.

“The incantation is simply _Objectum actum et_ ,” the charms master explained to the Gryffindor boy, “the rest is syntax to ensure absolute success.” He turned to the class at large, “let’s practice getting our quills to write our names on the parchment.”

Kurt smiled, he pointed his wand at the quill, “ _Objectum_ Quill _actum_ write _et_ once,” Kurt shifted his wand to the parchment, “ _et_ parchment _et_ neatly _unde_ next to the margin,” Kurt began to flourish his wand, “ _infinitivus_ ‘Kurt Elizabeth Hummel’ on this parchment only.”

The quill performed the instruction perfectly, when it was done it started writing directly under his name in perfectly formed script that resembled the worksheets used to instruct junior school children on letter formation ‘sucks’.

“Really funny Finnocence,” Kurt glared at his brother.

“The spell may seem complicated but if you learn it now, in this form,” the charms master gave a small chuckle, “you will master it with ease non-verbally.”

“How does that make any sense?” Ron hissed.

“Learning long division gives you the ability to do large division sums in your head,” Hermione shrugged.

“Professor Flitwick, if I may,” Professor Umbridge moved to the space on the other side of the charms professor’s podium, “it is spiriting to see young minds being shaped in such pragmatic magic in a secure and safe environment that will allow academic journey to progress without incidence. It is the vision of the ministry to see young people such as yourselves taught in a way that best prepares you for your future careers and domestic lives, it is in an effort to achieve this goal that the ministry has taken the necessary steps to ensure that this institution that is a beacon in our society lives up to the standards required for achieving that goal.”

Kurt and Hermione exchanged a concerned look.

~0~

“Nice pyjamas,” Ron snickered, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with a yawn, “I think my Great Aunt Pearl has something like that.”

Kurt looked down at his three-piece silk pyjama set and looked back at the boy with a narrowed his gaze, “nice nipples, they look like dog noses.”

Ron adjusted his vest so it hid his nipples, “that’s unnecessarily hurtful.”

“I know, that’s how I prefer it,” Kurt wrapped his robe tighter around himself.

“Good to know that the fact that it’s the middle of the night doesn’t stop Kurt and Ron from flirting like I imagine basilisks do,” Harry groaned.

“Would,” Kurt corrected, “Basilisks, while gendered, are asexual. They do not mate or interact in anyway but rather are bred by hatching a chicken egg under a toad.”

“Please tell me I didn’t get out of bed for a lesson in Care for Magical Creatures,” Ron groaned.

“You didn’t,” Hermione assured him.

“As much as I’m enjoying this thing, whatever it is,” Harry rolled his eyes, “Why are we meeting at midnight?”

“and why did it have to be outside?” Kurt followed up, “it’s really cold out here, Ron’s nipples are probably hard enough to cut diamonds.”

“Okay,” Ron threw his hands up in defeat, “I’m sorry I made fun of your pyjamas, they suit you very well and in no way make you look like an old fat lady. Can we lay-off my nipples now?”

“I’m sure I still have one good nipple jab,” Kurt furrowed his brow for a moment, “No, I’m good.”

“Thank you,” Ron leaned closer to Harry, “remind me never to make fun of Kurt ever again.”

“As if you’d listen,” Harry rolled his eyes.

“Hermione,” Kurt raised an expectant brow.

“These Educational decrees are getting ridiculous,” Hermione shivered in her nightgown, “isn’t there something we can do?”

“Kurt bought the school,” Ron pointed out, “doesn’t that give you vetoing power?”

“To decisions made by the Board of Governors, this is the law,” Kurt hugged himself tightly, “it’s a little above my paygrade.”

“So what?” Ron shrugged, “we do nothing?”

“For the time being it appears to be our only option,” Hermione shook her head.

Harry shook his head, “what are you hearing?”

“Not much,” Kurt shook his head, “all I can tell you right now is that our kill files are scarier than Sirius Black’s, the ministry has everything waiting.”

“Stop shaking your heads, it’s making me dizzy,” Ron leaned against the wall.

“What does that mean?” Hermione furrowed her brow, shock written on her face.

“They seem to be privy to some of our most intimate conversations,” Kurt shook his head, “the things they know and the ones they don’t have me perplexed, I’d think they were listening in if they knew everything but they know the most arbitrary details.”

Hermione clutched her chest, “They don’t-” Kurt nodded, “oh God.”

“What?” Harry looked between the pair, “the ministry knows, surely you can tell us.”

“It’s deeply personal and we’re not discussing it till it becomes absolutely crucial,” Hermione snapped dismissively.

Kurt smiled devilishly, “Hermione-”

“Kurt,” her voice flirting with the ceiling human hearing, “you can’t tell them.”

“It’s not like they’ll care,” Kurt giggled.

“It doesn’t matter,” Hermione snapped, “It’s none of their business.”

“Whatever,” Kurt shrugged.

“Why don’t you tell them yours?” Hermione crossed her arms.

Kurt smirked, “Mine isn’t going to come out, if it does it will be distasteful but it won’t be a surprise to anyone.”

“Either tell us or move on,” Harry growled.

“Yes Kurt,” Hermione huffed, “move on.”

“We also know that the rumours on Continental Europe show that they believe us more than people here at home do,” Kurt gave a weak smile, “Madame Maxime’s sabbatical and the disappearance of Don Karkaroff seem to give the rumours clout.”

“Karkaroff is missing?” Harry exclaimed.

“I thought his name was Igor not Don,” Ron mumbled.

Hermione rolled her eyes, “it’s his title, not his name.”

“Oh,” Ron nodded, “what happened to him?”

“He disappeared almost immediately after Durmstrang returned home,” Hermione explained, “I suspect he went into hiding.”

“Why would he go into hiding?” Ron furrowed his brow.

“He used to be a Death Eater,” Kurt explained.

Ron rolled his eyes, “I get that much.”

“Voldemort’s return means a lot for him,” Kurt explained, “he turned state informant on his fellow Death Eaters, they will be coming for him soon as they’re out of Azkaban. You don’t quit being a Death Eater, the only way out is to die.”

“Why are you so sure everyone’s getting out of Azkaban?” Harry glared at him.

“You think Voldemort can organise for a pair of dementors to attack you in Little Whinging and he can’t get them to let his most loyal followers out of Azkaban?” Hermione’s voice was distant and small.

“Professor Snape used to be a Death Eater,” Ron pointed out.

“He’s either very brave, quite wise,” Kurt shrugged, “or up to no good.”

“How do you mean?” Hermione tilted her head questioningly.

“He is either here because he is unafraid of the consequences, he knows that he is safe in the shadow of Professor Dumbledore,” Kurt took a deep breath, “or he’s still eating death, or whatever the verb for being a Death Eater is.”

Ron gulped nervously, “What else did you learn?”

“Nothing relevant,” Kurt shook his head.

“What is it?” Harry asked encouragingly.

“I don’t know how to explain,” Kurt shrugged, “I’m trying to understand how he’s continued to survive all this time, even unicorn blood has its limitations. It must be magic so dark that even I can’t imagine it, or so boring it isn’t worth the brain power.”

“And?”

Kurt gave a weak smile, “I suspect the latter.”

“Why is that?” Hermione’s eyes went wide.

“It feels like something I know but I’m having difficulty linking the two up,” Kurt shrugged, “it’s like if I weren’t as good at packing and I was trying to figure out which of my eight suitcases I’d packed something specific in.”

“That makes no sense,” Harry shook his head.

“What happened to your well organised mind?” Ron shivered, “You’re supposed to have near perfect recollection of everything you read, right?”

“Yes,” Kurt nodded, “I’m not sure I read this though.”

“What about if it’s so dark you can’t imagine it?” Harry cut their tangent short, “What do you have for that?”

“All I have is a name and I’m looking into it,” Kurt shrugged.

“A name?” Harry furrowed his brow, “Who?”

“Wait,” Hermione shook her head, “we haven’t been looking for a name.”

“There’s nothing on it in the library,” Kurt shook his head.

“Who?” Harry growled.

“Anais Haddad-Schmidt,” Kurt whispered the name and it sent a cold shiver up his spine.

“Who is she?” Harry grabbed Kurt’s arm firmly, “is she one of his followers?”

“No,” Kurt shook his head, shrugging out of the shorter boy’s grip with a glare, “I don’t know anything about her other than that she lived in the last millennium.”

“If you don’t know anything about her then how do you know of her?” Ron furrowed his brow, “how do you know she’s real? How do you know it’s a she? How do you know it matters?”

“I know what I know and I’m sure it matters,” Kurt shrugged, “telling you anymore would discredit me.”

“Try me,” Harry growled.

“It came to me in a dream,” Kurt shrugged.

Harry’s eyes went wide and he reached out a gentle hand, “you’re dreaming of him too?”

Kurt couldn’t keep the shock from his face, “I’m not dreaming of Voldemort.” Kurt shook his head, “Honey, why haven’t you told me your having more dreams of him? I thought it was just Cedric’s death.”

“Then who?” Harry snapped back, retreating into himself.

Kurt took a deep breath, “I don’t know how or why yet but I’ve been dreaming of-”

“We all have to be ready,” Hermione interrupted before he could finish, “after the muggles, we’re the most vulnerable.” She gave a weak laugh, “we need to be able to defend ourselves when the time comes and we can sell it to people as extra Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons.”

Kurt quirked a brow, “What are we selling and to whom?”

“Between the four of us we know more magic than most other students,” Hermione shook her head, more excitedly this time, “we can get something going, teach those who want to know.”

“Hermione,” Ron held up his hands to slow her train of thought, “start at the beginning and explain your idea like…” he shrugged, “like you’re explaining it to me.”

“We’re going to teach our peers how to duel, for real.” Hermione smiled broadly, “like how to defend themselves from the bad guys, how to fight.” Hermione was vibrating with excitement at this point, “we’re going to make sure that regardless of whether they believe us or not, those who want to, will be ready for whatever may come their way.”

“Or at the very least their OWLs,” Kurt gave a small smile.

“There’s so much planning to do!” Hermione squealed excitedly.  

~0~

_Welsh Mountains,_

_04 th January 988,_

_09:37 AM._

“Helga,” the lithe woman extended her hands as she appeared with a pop so faint that it was barely audible to the St Bernard at her friend’s feet, “I apologise for my tardiness, I know it’s inexcusable but-”

“The world wasn’t going to save itself,” Helga rose from her seat to greet her dearest friend with a hug, “it’s lovely to see you.”

“It’s lovely to see you as well,” they stood for a moment looking at each other, “How is your mother? Where is Charles?”

“My mother is fit as a fiddle,” Helga chortled, “I suspect your elixir worked too well, she and Charles are on a hike. How are things at the Ministry? What were you just working on?”

“Breakfast with Haim Black,” Rowena gave a tight lipped smile.

Halga’s mouth hung open, “are you taking a liking to the gentleman?”

“Me? Take a liking to Haim?” Rowena let out a polite giggle, “Oh, he’s much too light in the loafers for my taste.”

“You lie,” Helga gave a small chuckle, “How do you know?”

“He may not be a parselmouth but that doesn’t stop him from getting intimate with a specific serpentine breed. Or can you think of another way to explain his penis breath,” Rowena rubbed her hands sinisterly.

“Rowena,” Helga gave a booming chuckle, “don’t you start that, I thought we long expelled that prejudice from our society.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I am not prejudice,” Rowena shook he head, “I love Haim and his light loafers but I don’t think it is a quality I’d appreciate in husband.”

“I would think you would enjoy a husband who would leave you to your own devices,” Helga wagged a curious brow.

“As much as I’d appreciate the space,” Rowena allowed her stoic nature to fall even farther for a moment, “I’d miss the sex.”

“Rowena,” Helga gasped with false scandal.

“I have been a guest in your home and from what I’ve heard,” she giggled just outside of propriety, “you would too in such a situation.”

“It is the best part of being married,” Helga gave a small laugh.

“It’s the best part of being unmarried as well,” Rowena pursed her lips. Their chat was interrupted by a firm knocking on the door, “Are you expecting someone?”

“Yes, there is someone I want you to meet,” Helga jumped up and was at the door before Rowena could gather herself and her thoughts. Helga opened the door and in the door way stood a large man with a mane of bright red hair, “Rowena Ravenclaw, meet Godric Gryffindor.”

“Charmed I’m sure,” the man smiled broadly and handed Helga his coat, “I hope you ladies don’t mind, but I brought a friend. This is Salazar Slytherin, Salazar meet Helga and,” the man kissed her hand, “may I call you Rowena?”

“Given the context, it would appear to be appropriate,” her stoic demeanour back in place. Salazar Slytherin was a slender man with a severe widows peak and black square spectacles, he shook her hand, “a pleasure to meet you both.”

“Helga,” Godric turned to Helga as he took the seat beside her, “Have you found me a wife, is that why you’ve called this meeting?”

“I called this meeting,” Rowena’s words were sharp, “and in me Helga has found nothing for anyone.” Salazar beside her gave a small chuckle, “your reputation precedes you Godric, both of you to be perfectly honest. Your work in the face of recent events is highly commended in the ministry, it makes sense that you would be here.”

“As does your reputation,” Godric bowed his head slightly, “given your recent work, people have started to speculate as to whether you’re the brightest witch of the age. You acted very bravely.”

“I did what I did out of necessity, it was the only logical way forward,” she gave a small shrug, “the only way life as we know it could go on was if I stopped Anais Haddad-Schmidt.”


	6. Chapter 6

Kurt took brisk, long strides in an effort to make it out of the rain. The large red umbrella shook fiercely under the pelting of the large autumn raindrops. Kurt threw the umbrella into the stand beside the door and hung up his raincoat as he was followed into the Hogshead by Harry, Hermione, Ron and Luna- who were all equally as wet and hurriedly discarding their outer wear.

“Thank you for waiting for us,” Hermione groaned.

“Not my fault your short, little legs couldn’t keep up, I didn’t want to get any wetter than I already was,” Kurt dismissed her complaint as he walked up to the bar, the barkeep rolled his eyes at the sight of him and physically slumped, “hi, I have a reservation for thirty.”

“Merlin’s beard,” the man groaned, “you again.”

“Yes, me again,” Kurt beamed, “I’m flattered you remembered.”

“When I got an owl for a reservation of any kind I thought it was a joke but then I remembered the only other person to make a reservation and hoped it was a joke,” he rolled his eyes and pointed up a staircase that would not have passed a fire marshal’s test, “what’s the occasion?”

“We’re celebrating a friend’s birthday,” Kurt smile fell when the man quirked a curious brow, “in absentia. You know young people, any reason to drink.”

“Whatever,” the man shrugged as he led them up the stairs to a secluded room with one large table, unable to fault Kurt’s logic. When the man spoke again, it was in clipped tones, “No dancing on the table like the last time.”

“I have no memories of last time,” Kurt shook his head, he thanked the barkeep and the elderly man left them to their own devices.

“None of us do,” Harry laid a hand on Kurt’s shoulder in solidarity.

“What happened last time?” Ron asked with a furrowed brow.

“We drank what was essentially death slathered in honey,” Kurt shuddered, “that was my last memory.”

“Then I remember waking up the following morning feeling nothing but regret and shame,” Harry shook his head and shuddered.

“I remember it perfectly,” Luna giggled and gave a pointed look to Hermione and Ron, “you two really missed out.” She turned to Kurt and Harry, “You two were a mess and it was all just too hilarious.”

“Let’s change the subject,” Kurt snapped.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Harry grinned, “what does the ministry know about you and Hermione that you don’t want us to find out about?”

“Nice try,” Hermione condescendingly patted the top of Harry’s head, “but that’s not what we’re talking about.”

“I’d like to hear more about Anais Haddad-Schmidt,” Luna suggested.

“Is there more?” Ron raised a curious brow, “I thought you said you couldn’t find any record of her.”

“There is more,” Kurt smiled, “I could share while we’re waiting.”

“I still want to know what you two are hiding,” Harry gave them a pointed look.

Hermione rolled her eyes, “In your dreams.”

“No my love, in my dreams,” Kurt smirked, “here’s what I know about Anais Haddad-Schmidt. She lived before the turn of the last millennium, here in Europe. I know that she did something truly awful, unspeakably evil, and the consequence was the birth of a creature of some sorts.” Kurt gave a small shrug, “she’s the reason they started building magical schools, to control what people learn and standardise what we know. She and her dark magic were seemingly erased from history, I can’t find any trace of her.”

“Yet you know so much,” Harry quipped.

Kurt smiled broadly, “I’ve been trying to get a full eight hours of sleep of late.”

“The creatures,” Luna looked from one of them to the next quizzically, “What do you think they are?”

“Something cool like dragons,” Ron smiled to himself, his ears perked up, “is that why you’ve been talking to my brother?”

“Dragons evolved from drakes thousands of years ago,” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“The creatures are supposed to remain,” Kurt nodded to himself, “as a reminder.”

Harry furrowed his brow, “a reminder of what?”

“That if you step out of line Rowena Ravenclaw will end you,” Luna giggled.

“Wait a minute,” Ron held up his hands.

“If he’s just figured out that this is all based on a dream then I’m out,” Kurt whispered to Hermione.

“Surely not,” she replied with a giggle.

“People are starting to arrive,” Luna pointed out as people started filtering in and taking their seats.

“Let me just ask Kurt one question and we can carry on with our lives,” everyone nodded and Ron continued, “why are you talking to my brother?”

“Really Ron?” Harry growled.

Kurt smiled, “I don’t find him completely boring.”

Ron stopped breathing, Hermione stepped between the pair, “What Kurt means is that your brother keeps us informed as to the goings on in continental Europe.”

“You couldn’t let me mess with him this one time,” Kurt groaned.

“It’s almost time to start,” Hermione wagged a finger at him, “we’ll discuss this later.”

Kurt gave a tight lipped smile as he took his seat, “Never works for me.”

“Later,” Hermione hissed before turning to the room at large with a broad smile on her face, “Hi everyone, thank you for coming.” She took a deep breath and adopted a more serious demeanour, “We’re here because we need to learn to defend ourselves.”

“Defend ourselves from what?” Anthony Goldstein interjected.

“Defend ourselves from-” Hermione’s voice trailed off, “you-know-who.”

“So he says,” Seamus blurted out.

“So Dumbledore says,” Ron countered.

“So Dumbledore says because he says,” Seamus growled.

“Who has to say it?” Kurt raised an expectant brow.

“What?”

“Who would you like to hear it from for you to believe it?” Kurt continued, “You don’t believe it when Harry says it, you don’t believe it when Professor Dumbledore says it and you don’t believe it when I say it. Who will you believe? Or will you only listen to reason when someone else we know is dead?”

A heavy silence fell over the room, Hermione cleared her throat, “We’re young, that makes us vulnerable right now. We need to be ready to defend ourselves, Professor Umbridge isn’t preparing us for that because the ministry is afraid that Professor Dumbledore would use us to overthrow them.”

It was Angelina Johnson who spoke next, “What do you suggest?”

“Harry and Kurt have experience fighting You-Know-Who,” Hermione began to explain, “there’s a great deal we can learn from them.”

“I’m not sure how true that is,” Harry interjected, “Kurt has tons to teach but I mostly got lucky, I almost always had help and-”

“He’s being modest,” Kurt interrupted, “In first year you faced Quirrell alone and you did what you did without any help from us.”

“In second year he slayed the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets with the sword of Gryffindor,” Neville added.

“I heard he could perform a patronus, that’s a NEWT level spell,” Susan Bones spoke in a matter of fact tone, her lisp making Kurt want to set her on fire, “is that true?”

“It is,” Hermione spoke before Harry could douse the fire they were building, “I’ve seen it, it was corporeal.”

“Beat off like a hundred dementors at once,” Ron verified.

“And he really fought you know who earlier in the year,” Kurt’s words silenced everyone in the room, “tell them.”

“Well, I won’t go into too much detail,” Harry nervously scratched at the back of his head, “The cup was a portkey, Cedric and me were transported to a graveyard.”

“Cedric and I,” Kurt corrected unconsciously.

“Cedric was killed by the killing curse,” Harry was silent and everyone listened, not sure what they were listening for but they waited from something else to come, “I don’t know what else to say, within moments of his return he had his followers back at his side. He tried to kill me and I only just got away.”

Kurt took the floor, “I too have fought Voldemort before, he was about the age we are now but despite that his power was greater than you can imagine, knowing the magic we want to share with you is how I survived. I have faced death eaters and the element of surprise was how I survived.” Kurt paused for dramatic effect, “Magical skill is very important but when faced with an opponent who is better learned, then knowing a handful of unusual and powerful spells and thinking in an unexpected way is the best weapon to have in your arsenal. That’s what we hope to teach you here.

“As you can see, not everyone is here. We don’t hold ill will to those that aren’t willing to participate or haven’t been told about this initiative,” Kurt took a page out of Professor Umbridge’s book and made eye contact with everyone to emphasize that he was talking to all of them, “but as this is in everyone’s best interest I implore you all to discreetly share what you learn in this club with as many people as you can.”

“Why?” Fred blurted out.

“They don’t want to know,” George completed.

“Why should we go out of our way to help them?” they chorused.

“For the same we’re teaching you,” Kurt’s voice had an air that was new but not entirely foreign, maternity, “they’re just children.  We cannot fault them and leave them to the claws of evil because they don’t know better, because they don’t know how to listen to reason, because they taught the wrong thing by the people they most depend on.”

“As we sit here, we are the future,” Hermione explained, her tone echoing Kurt’s, “But so are they, the world we create is equally dependent on them. It is therefore our duty to ensure that the role they play is a positive one, we cannot fault them for doing the wrong thing if we do not take effort to lead them down the right path.”

There was a thoughtful silence, Ron cleared his throat to speak, “we’re still working on finding a time and place to meet but we do have a sign-up sheet that you can write your name, we can keep you posted that way.”

“There is a no sneak enchantment on the parchment,” Hermione explained, “it’s is to ensure that none of us mentions the group and what we do to anyone, to prevent the matter from getting back to Professor Umbridge.”

“To quell distrust in the aftermath of the truth getting out, the person who speaks will temporarily and painlessly be branded as a sneak,” Kurt smiled, “to protect us all. Further, non-administrative members can only read their own name off the list. Are there any questions?”

Mandy Brocklehurst confidently lifted her hand when everyone else was silent, Kurt called on her, “Kurt, do you honestly think doing this will help us survive?”

“I know that if we don’t do this then not only will we be underprepared,” Kurt’s voice caught for a moment, “we won’t have any reason to believe we can make it through, we won’t have any hope.”

“Well,” she nodded to herself, “I can’t think of anyone better qualified than you and Hermione to do something like this; you’re top of our year and you’re always getting yourselves into these positions.”

“That means a lot coming from you Mandy,” Kurt gave a small smile, “not to be immodest but we’re the best chance we have right now.”

~0~

“We could just give them the winter goodies,” Hermione insisted, “I really think us labouring that we aren’t setting them free is condescending and not what this club is about.”

“I’ve said this to you a hundred or so times,” Kurt rolled his eyes as they levitated the parcels down the corridor, “it is imperative that we follow this channel in order for our final outcome to be a possibility, and the final outcome is what this club is about.” Kurt adjusted an imaginary stray hair as they descended the grand staircase, “giving the house elves a sense of dignity will make them want to fight for their own liberation or, at the very least, make them more receptive to the idea of liberation.”

“In the grander scheme of things it works the other way as well,” Luna echoed the sentiment, “seeing house elves in clothing humanises them in the eyes of wizardkind.”

“My Pureblood supremacist grandmother treats her house elf with dignity because she wears clothes that very closely resemble human clothing,” Kurt nodded, “Sirius Black, on the other end of the spectrum, treats Kreacher like something her scraped off the bottom of his shoe.”

“Kreacher is vile-” Hermione began but Kurt cut her off with a raised hand.

Denis knitted his brow, “Who is Kreacher?”

“Kreacher is a house elf that serves the Noble and Most Ancient House Black,” Kurt said with a smile.

“And like a majority of that house, he harbours views that support pureblood supremacy,” Hermione added with a growl.

“Wait,” Denis tried to shake the confusion from his mind, “Why are you defending him if he’s bad?”

“Kreacher, like Sirius, was born in a family that taught him the wrong thing. Walburga Black taught Kreacher to be the way he is, like she tried to teach Sirius, but Kreacher didn’t have the option to rebel,” Kurt shook his head.

“That is so deep,” Neville mumbled under his breath, “you never think about how people come to be as they are, not really.”

“I’m not condoning it, I’m acknowledging it,” Kurt explained, “the media and external factors aren’t as readily available to change mind sets in the wizarding world, in the muggle world we have TV and radio to moderate what people believe- it doesn’t always work but it’s there.”

“Still,” Neville nodded to himself, “it changes my perspective on a number of things, I have to thank my Gran for not teaching me the wrong things.”

“You don’t thank a fish for swimming,” Kurt shook his head.

“That’s not the only reason you’re defending Kreacher,” Luna shook her head.

“You need to stop reading my mind,” Kurt giggled, “but this is true, I defend Kreacher because I know that there is goodness inside him.”

“How on earth could you know that?” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Because when he was tasked with ‘disposing’ of me, he didn’t,” Kurt gave a weak smile, “I know that as house elf he couldn’t kill me but there are a number of ways to set up the demise of a new born without being directly responsible but he chose to find me a home instead; he was under the impression that I was a squib at the time but he still treated me with kindness at the risk of his own peril.”

“That’s-” Hermione began but was interrupted by Kurt Snatching Denis’s parcels and pushing the boy into a dark corridor, “What was that?”

“Professor Umbridge,” Kurt pointed to the woman who appeared to be coming from either the kitchens or the Hufflepuff common room, “I have the feeling she won’t agree with the premise of this club, we can handle anything she throws at us but Denis is a child.”

“Maternal Kurt is kind of scary,” Neville grinned.

“Also Kind of sexy,” Luna added with a chuckle.

“You four,” Professor Umbridge gestured in their direction as she attempted to block their way despite the fact that kurt could push her over with little to no effort, “Why are you spell casting in the corridor? Further, none of you are Hufflepuff students, what brings you to this part of the castle?”

“We’re members of SPEW and we’re on our way to the Kitchens to deliver these parcels,” Hermione answered in clipped tones.

“SPEW? I’m not familiar with this particular club.”

“The Society for the Protection of Elvish Welfare,” Nevile answered her.

“Elvish Welfare,” her eyes were wide as saucers by this point.

“We’re an Elf Liberation Front,” Luna added.

“Where was that name when we got stuck with SPEW?” Kurt snapped.

“Hey,” Hermione countered in a high-pitched shadow of her real voice.

“On whose authority?” Professor Umbridge called their attention back to her.

“I don’t understand the question,” Hermione shook her head, “School clubs have autonomy.”

“But you’re breaking a school rule,” She smiled, “I’ll have to shut down your little… club.”

“I have a note from Professor Dumbledore allowing us to spell cast in the corridor and visit the kitchens, one from Professor McGonagall officiating this club,” Kurt smiled down at the woman, “and one from each of our Heads of House giving us permission to be out of our common rooms.”

Professor Umbridge’s face went dark, “Well, I suppose that will have to do for now.”

They all watched her walking away, then Hermione turned to him, “if you have all those notes then why did you ave to push Denis over?”

“Because I was bluffing and if she called my bluff she would have been even angrier,” Kurt smiled, “I wasn’t willing to gamble with Denis’s wellbeing that way.”

“But our wellbeings would have just been-” Neville tripped over his words, “sad for a moment but you’d get over it.”

“Pretty much,” He and Hermione chorused.

“Let’s deliver this merchandise before she asks around and figures out we lied,” Luna gestured to the green men folded into apples.

“They’d all agree to writing said notes,” Kurt giggled as he tickled one of the men. A doorway appeared in the canvas and they all stepped through, arguing as to whether Professor Snape would lie to protect them.

When they were in the Kitchens, Hermione called for the house elves to congregate, “Thank you for your time, I know that you’re all very busy but with winter around the corner we have brought you all something. There is a parcel for each of you that contains winter socks, gloves, a jumper and a hat. Before you get upset, these clothes are enchanted so that they don’t set you free and so you can all wear them without any risk to your livelihood.

“We’re only doing this so you can be more comfortable,” She assured them, “there is a package for each of you and you are free to elect not to wear them but if you choose to wear them you stand no risk, we have a letter from Professor Dumbledore attesting to as much.”

“Hand them out with speed,” the managing house elf nodded to them as he held the note in his hands and tried to decipher what t said with his remedial literacy, “We’d like to get back to work.”

~0~

“Tracey,” Kurt grinned as he sat down beside her on the leather couch, “You will never guess what just came in the mail for me.”

“Nor will I ever care,” she gave him a tight lipped smile before returning to the copy of _Catcher in the Rye_ he had lent to her.

Kurt giggled, “It’s one of the first copies of my compilation of the notes Cedric used to study for his OWLs, he was going to get a handful of Outstandings but because we worked together and used his religiously, he got nine Outstanding OWLs.” Kurt grinned, “but I understand your disinterest.”

Tracey dropped her book and snatched the bound booklet, she leafed through it at great speed, “There is a lot of work in here, stuff we haven’t done that isn’t even on the syllabus.” Her eyes grew wide and the panic on her face did the same, “I’m not on this level of independent study, this requires a level of extrapolation beyond that of the average student.”

“That’s why it’s not an Average but an Outstanding,” Kurt quipped.

“Pansy,” Tracey waved her over, “Come have a look at this, you will lose your blob.”

Pansy giggled politely, “I’m not on the blob.”

“Trust me,” Tracey insisted, “Kurt was showing me his study guide and I literally cannot deal.”

“You two are awfully chummy all of a sudden,” Pansy rolled her eyes as she threw herself into the armchair opposite them, she lazily leafed through the booklet but the more she saw, the greater the urgency in her reading, “Blaise, come see this, you will shit yourself.”

“Did you lose your blob?” Tracey giggled with anticipation, “tell me you lost your blob.”

“I’m not sure why you would think I need to know about Pansy’s cycle but no,” Blaise Zabini stood over them with his hands raised in surrender, “I wouldn’t have crossed the room to _here_ if I’d known that’s what you were discussing.”

“I’m not on the blob,” Pansy assured him.

He shook his head, “Don’t want to know.”

“It’s not always about what you want,” Kurt smirked, “sometimes it’s about what you need.”

Both Blaise and Pansy blushed, Tracey giggled and handed the young man towering over them the study guide, “take a look at that.”

He leafed through it casually, “Is this yours?”

“No,” Tracey shook her head, “it’s Kurt’s.”

Blaise sneered, “How do you know what’s going to be in the OWLs?”

“My boyfriend and all his friends took their OWLs last year in June,” Kurt shrugged, “they all did well using those notes, I have a number of friends who have gone through the system who I have used as a barometer as I was working on compiling that study guide, I interned at the ministry during the summer break and I have the ear of almost every teacher at Hogwarts.”

“Touché,” Blaise grinned, “I’m going to keep this.”

“I brought the first copies are for my friends, this one is for Tracey Davis. Put it down and go back to your side of the room and I’ll let you keep something else,” Kurt grinned as he let the suspense grow, “Your life.”

“What’s the point of showing us then,” Pansy, near growled.

“There will be more copies arriving in the mail and you may receive one,” Kurt smiled, “I’m so gracious that you can even book a practice session with me or one of my associates in my office when you have your own copy.”

“Associates?” Blaise quirked a brow.

“Hermione Granger, Padma Petil, Lisa Turpin, Mandy Brocklehurst, and- fingers crossed- Tracey Davis,” Kurt smiled.

“Those are some of the finest girls in our year,” Blaise grinned salaciously.

“Also the only people with an average that is in itself an Outstanding,” Kurt grinned. “If we were working on looks,” his smile lingered for a moment on his former nemesis, “our numbers would be greater.”

He watched the pair exchange a look as he had intended them to do, Blaise gave a nervous chuckle, “I’m gonna go.”

They watched him leave, Pansy turned to Kurt with wide eyes, “you need to teach me that, I’ve been trying to get him to look at me like that all year. If I hemmed my skirt anymore it was going to be a belt.”

“It’s one of my talents,” Kurt smirked.

“I’m sorry for everything terrible I’ve ever said about or to you,” Pansy had a creepy smile on her face, “I’ll even apologise to Granger.”

“Apologies are due on both sides,” Kurt shook his head, “but all it takes is a slight pursing of the lips, suggestive eye contact, and making yourself seem completely unavailable yet at the same time almost too available.”

“That makes no sense,” Tracey giggled, “pursing my lips is easy.”

“Suggestive eye contact is when you caress the other person’s body with your eyes, note I said caress not attack,” Kurt squared up with Pansy, “yours eyes should glide over appropriate body parts and occasionally steal an inappropriate glance.” He grabbed her hand and his eyes moved up her arms, over her collar bone and to her face- plain, maybe, but not pug-faced.

“I think I’m in love,” Pansy melted under his well thought out manipulation of her.

“My party trick is to pretend to be showing interest and grab his arm politely, recoil in surprise and then give their bicep a friendly swat,” Kurt demonstrated as he did this, “if I’m feeling a little brave, I’ll squeal ‘bicep’.”

“I can’t even deal with this,” Tracey giggled.

“You need starter boyfriends,” Kurt grinned.

“What the hell is a starter boyfriend?”

“They are like training wheels, you’re not crazy about them but you get to practice dating,” Kurt explained, “Terry Boot was my starter boyfriend; I’d already kissed Cedric but I got some experience and confidence, he taught me how to make good conversation on a date, the likes.”

“I need one,” Pansy growled but it was friendlier this time.

“I will see what I can do,” Kurt gave them a polite smile.

“If you say Longbottom I will scream,” Pansy forced a smile.

“If you give her Longbottom and leave me with Weasley I’ll scream,” Tracey snapped.

“Calm down,” Kurt smiled, “nobody has to date Ron, and Neville is with Mandy Bracklehurst. Ever hear of Thomas Kennedy or Anthony Rickett? They’re both seventh year prefects.”

“You are a heaven send,” Tracey grinned, Pansy nodded her agreement- he was in.

Kurt smirked, “Don’t you forget it.”


	7. Chapter 7

“Take your seats,” said the broad alternate of Professor Burbage who had taken over teaching the social sciences from Professor Burbage, her voice held an accent that Kurt couldn’t place as it drifted somewhere between Russian and South American; Kurt suspected that Comrade Flamingcough had invented the Mid-Pacific accent in her attempt to be the ultimate twentieth century revolutionary.

Kurt took his seat between Mandy and Terry, they had been telling Mandy all about O-Level examinations and the nations transition to GCSEs a few years back- she wasn’t taking the news well. She shook her head, “We have to take eleven exams but we learnt all the work as part of one subject, there must be a content disconnect.”

“There definitely is,” Kurt nodded, “but that’s why they’re optional for us and we’re going to begin an intensive revision programme after Christmas break, that’s also why I want to petition the school to hire us a private tutor to work with us on weekends.”

Mandy nodded to herself, “I’m going to need these tests if I want to go to university, correct?”

“Definitely,” Terry nodded, “And you’ll need to have done well.”

“Doing well was never negotiable,” Mandy scoffed, “but I completely agree, we’ll need a tutor or exam trainer for these exams.” She gave a broad smile, “the idea of becoming a physician has eclipsed my juvenile dream of becoming a healer, I find the muggle approach to be more challenging and an excellent opportunity to show off how level headed and diversely gifted I am.”

“Sure,” Kurt and Terry chorused with matching smiles.

“I will write a letter and sign the petition,” Mandy nodded to herself before turning to the girl next to her, “Lisa, we’re participating in this petition, my new life’s dream depends on it.”

“Sounds like you’re making your problems my problems,” Lisa scoffed with a flip of her strawberry blonde hair, “I have another engagement this afternoon.”

“I know that,” Mandy rolled her eyes, “I’m going to be at Hermione and Kurt’s meeting as well.”

“That’s this evening,” Lisa smiled menacingly, “I have afternoon plans.”

“Is this the part where we’re supposed to get ultra-curious and beg you to tell us?” Terry spoke impassively, “Because I’m not biting.” He nibbled on Kurt’s ear as he said the last bit, “At least not you.”

“Terrence,” Kurt gasped, “behave!”

“You two are so cute it’s disgusting,” Lisa rolled her eyes.

“Do you know what’s so cute it’s disgusting?” Kurt turned back and pointed his finger, “My brother and Padma.” He let out a sigh, “I want to bash their skulls in whenever I see them together.”

“They would make such beautiful children together,” Lisa sighed.

“My children will be beautiful too,” Mandy snapped, “they will feed on the most perfect breasts in existence.”

“I want to say something but I can’t fault her logic,” Kurt shrugged, “Her boobs are amazing.”

“Thank you,” Mandy smiled ingratiatingly.

“I, on the other hand,” Kurt shook his head as he spoke, “am never having kids.”

Terry scoffed, “that’s what they all say.”

“I’m being dead serious,” Kurt smiled malevolently, “having siblings whom I am much older than has taught me that I hate children and they hate me, they’re my least favourite animals.”

“Did you just call children animals?” Lisa asked with a sideways glance.

“I don’t hear a lie,” Mandy nodded to herself, “sure I’m going to have many beautiful children but I’m also going to save lives for a living so I don’t have to spend any time with them.”

“Mandy gets it,” Kurt nodded his agreement.

She grinned ingratiatingly, “Of course, I get it.” She gestured for them to lean in, “Speaking of children, did you hear that Heather Morris is dropping out because she’s pregnant?”

“Shut up,” Lisa squealed with Glee, “How do you know?”

“I overheard her telling Manuel Thompson the news that he was going to be a father when I was eavesdropping on them in the owlery,” Mandy’s grin made Kurt wonder why it had taken them this long to make a connection, she was getting pleasure from the misfortune of others and Kurt adored it, “Nobody knows so if I hear word getting around I’ll know it was one of you sluts.”

“Professor McGonagall says there’s one every generation,” Kurt shook his head in disbelief.

“One what?” Terry asked with a furrowed brow.

“The girl who gets pregnant and stays pregnant,” Lisa shuddered.

“Last year Heidi in Hufflepuff got pregnant and took the potion the day she found out,” Mandy shook her head, “The shame is that Heather has to drop out and Manuel’s life is just going to go on.”

“According to Professor McGonagall, the last girl let her boyfriend talk her into keeping it,” Lisa gagged, “he works at the ministry now and she’s a waitress at The Leaky Cauldron.”

“You just called a baby ‘it’,” Terry quirked a brow.

“I’ve seen child birth,” Kurt shuddered, “I think ‘it’ is very accurate.”

~0~

“Hermione,” Kurt called out to her from across the Transfiguration quad.

“Kurt,” She smiled at him quizzically, “There you are.”

“Here I am,” Kurt pursed his lips.

“We were about to go down and watch the Slytherin quidditch try outs,” Pansy pursed her lips to match his, “Heckle the juniors.”

“Care to join?” Tracey smiled politely, “Kurt was also about to share the juiciest gossip with us.”

“You,” Hermione furrowed her brow, “Want me to join you?”

“Our Goal is to make a junior cry,” Pansy explained.

“Pansy is also trying to get noticed by Blaise,” Tracey added.

“And we have to support Millicent,” Pansy added as an afterthought, “She’s going out for beater.”

Hermione nodded slowly, “And we’ll be back in time for-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Tracey shook her head as she hooked arms with Hermione, “These are Slytherin try-outs, they don’t give everyone an equal chance, they’ll be over before you know it.”

“These are primarily Draco’s opportunity to be a cunt to the juniors,” Kurt shook his head as they walked down to the quidditch pitch arm in arm, “he already has a team picked out.”

“How do you know that?” Hermione countered.

“I know everything,” Kurt smiled malevolently.

“That’s why you know, not how you know,” Tracey spoke, her eyeroll evident in her voice.

“Goyle told me he made the team,” Kurt shrugged nonchalantly, “I asked him how he would know that when try-outs are still coming up, he told me Draco put him on the team.”

“Was this before or after you guys made out?” Tracey teased.

“I wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot pole,” Kurt shuddered.

“I hear he has one of those,” Pansy smirked, “if you know what I mean.”

“Well,” Kurt grinned salaciously, “That changes everything.”

“Don’t be vulgar,” Hermione scolded.

“I just want to see if it’s true,” Kurt held his hands up defensively.

“That makes three of us,” Tracey moaned, “take pictures.”

“Three?” Pansy’s voice went sharp, “Who says I want to know?”

“Your face,” Tracey chuckled as they took their seats on the stands.

“None of us have to reduce ourselves to finding out, Daphne’s making her rounds,” Pansy shrugged, “she’s given head to all the seventh years but one, asking her to divert her attention for a moment wouldn’t be hard.”

Tracey gasped, “Christopher still giving her a hard no?”

“She’s even moved on to the sixth years,” Pansy shook her head, “He doesn’t understand that she’s a girl on a mission.”

“What’s the mission?” Hermione quirked a brow, “blow every senior Slytherin boy?”

“Yes,” Pansy exclaimed, “He’s blocking our slutty little girl from living her dreams.”

“Because he’s set his sights on Hermione,” Kurt giggled.

“The quidditch team has set their eyes on us,” Tracey smirked, “Wave girls.”

“Kurt’s here so Goyle’s got a boner,” Pansy chuckled, “Look at him trying to be inconspicuous about it.”

“Let’s change the subject before this gets awkward for me,” Kurt grinned, “Did you hear about Heather?”

“What about her?” Pansy grinned malevolently.

“She’s pregnant!” Kurt squealed gleefully, “Apparently she told Manuel today.”

“Who did you hear from?” Hermione gaped.

“Mandy Brocklehurst, she overheard the whole thing,” Kurt giggled, “but if anyone asks, you heard from Lisa Turpin.”

“I hate that strawberry blonde bitch any way,” Tracey shrugged.

“I pity her,” Pansy shook her head, “I wouldn’t wish Potter on my worst enemy.”

“Harry looks like he’d make the worst boyfriend ever,” Hermione shuddered.

“I heard you made out with him in the library in second year,” Pansy countered.

“That was-” Hermione faltered, her shoulders sagging as she realised she couldn’t explain that it was Neville and Finn, “one time on a dare.”

“And we have forgiven her,” Kurt announced, “Because she got with Viktor Krum.”

Tracey and Pansy groaned in unison, and Hermione grinned, “he still writes me.”

Kurt shook his head, “his biceps were everything!” Kurt smirked, “Now that I’m single I should snatch him for myself.”

“Are you single though?” Hermione quirked an accusatory brow.

“To my knowledge,” Kurt nodded, “yes.”

“It looks to the rest of the world like you’re dating Terry Boot,” Tracey crossed her arms.

“And I know you,” Hermione added, “and it looks to me like you’re dating Terry Boot.”

Kurt shook his head, “I am not dating Terry Boot, we’re just hanging out.”

“Are you letting his penis hang-out inside of you?” Pansy pursed her lips and flipped her hair.

“Good question,” Tracey high-fived her.

“I most certainly am not,” Kurt snapped, “If I were letting him inside me I would not let him just hang out, he’d have to earn his keep.”

Hermione clapped her hands, “that doesn’t mean you’re not dating anyone else in your desire of suitors.”

“A desire of suitors,” Pansy gaped, “I’ve only heard of the legend.”

“You told her?” Kurt groaned.

“How could I not?” Tracey countered, “Tell us, are you dating Goyle?”

“Or are you dating Auror in training Noah Puckerman?” Hermione giggled.

“I told you I wasn’t dating anyone,” Kurt chuckled.

“Is it Charles?” Hermione countered.

“He’s not part of my Desire of Suitors,” Kurt shook his head.

“That’s answer enough for me,” Hermione smirked.

~0~

“Welcome Ladies,” Kurt smiled as he handed Padma Petil, Lisa Turpin and Mandy Brocklehurst their goodie bags, “Thank you for joining us this evening, please make yourselves comfortable.”

“We will begin shortly,” Hermione explained with an inviting smile, “but please help yourselves to some refreshments, and please feel free to search through your goodie bags.”

“What’s in these?” Lisa asked as she turned hers over and tipped the contents onto the ground.

“There’s a lot of chocolate, a day planner, a set of pens,” Tracey Davis shrugged, “mostly boring nerd stuff but there’s also a very cute bracelet at the bottom.” She flashed hers at the girls, spilling her champagne in the process, “I got it.”

“I want what she’s having,” Mandy giggled as she watched Tracey wave away the puddle of bubbly, “I think I should have two.”

“I second the motion,” Padma giggled.

“And so it is,” Tracey chuckled as she waved over a glass for each of them and the bottle to pour for them with a whispered incantation.

“Thank you Tracey,” Hermione grinned as she gestured for them to take their seats, on the floor in a circle formation, “This meeting is primarily an ice-breaking initiative, because despite being in the same classes our competitive nature and the house system have kept this group fractured.”

“Let’s not forget that Kurt is also a cunt,” Tracey interjected.

“I’ll be the first to admit to being a bitch,” Mandy lifted her hands in surrender.

“She also started most of the rumours about everyone,” Lisa added.

Kurt blushed, “Speaking of starting rumours, I might have started the rumour that Lisa is bald.”

“That was you!”

“It was a mistake, I said your hair came from a bottle,” Kurt explained, “by which I meant your hair colour but it was misunderstood to be literal.”

“I can’t believe it,” Lisa chuckled, “People think I’m bald because of your sloppy wording.”

“We were young,” Kurt shrugged, “we know better now.”

“Alright,” Hermione raised a hand to recapture their attention, “We can discuss how much we all hate Kurt at a later stage, right now we have to listen to how he compiled the study guide and how it’s supposed to be used.”

“I’ll be quick because it is incredibly boring,” Kurt shrugged, “but I reviewed a copy of the syllabus outline from the hall of records, compiled it into a timeline of magic that you need to learn before sitting for your OWLs. I then asked a few people I knew who had written their OWLs, added the notes Cedric and company used to prepare for their OWLs. The last thing I did was add the knowledge I’d acquired outside of school and that of a close acquaintance.

“People are expected to do the work on their own and come see us if they get stuck or have difficulty executing the spells,” Kurt smiled, “Simple. The only other thing we’ll do is some research for group extra credit projects,” His grin grew, “now that that’s out of the way, charge your glasses ladies.”

“We’re playing the world’s hardest drinking game,” Hermione’s grin matched Kurt’s, “Never have I ever…”

“I’m not familiar,” Padma admitted, their audience nodded in agreement.

“You say a statement of something you’ve never done, those who have done that thing have to drink,” Hermione explained, “for example; never have I ever… dated a sixth year.”

Kurt narrowed his gaze, “I’d have to drink because Cedric was a sixth year.”

“You get it?” Hermione quirked a brow, she received affirmative nods.

“Mandy, you should go first,” Kurt pursed his lips, “your last name is first alphabetically, then we can go clockwise.”

“Okay,” she grinned malevolently, “Never have I ever gotten a ‘B’.”

Hermione, Kurt and Padma chorused a groan as they took a drink along with Lisa. Padma spoke on their behalf, “Divination.”

“Mandy is being salty,” Lisa rolled her eyes, “she was making reference to my poor Defence Against the Dark Arts results.” Lisa licked her lips as she thought, “never have I ever had a crush on a boy whose IQ is lower than their shoe size.”

Mandy’s mouth hung open for a moment, she took a large gulp of her champagne. She turned up her nose, “please do not judge me for my childhood foolishness but we all have to admit that Gregory Goyle is kind of cute.”

“His IQ isn’t as low as you’d think,” Kurt interjected in defence of the boy who was obsessed with him, “on a few occasions he’s shown himself to be quite perceptive but he does tend to play dumb quite well.”

“Oh babes,” Tracey smiled salaciously, “his feet are a lot larger than you think.”

“And you know what they say about a man with large feet,” Padma’s smirk mirrored Tracey’s perfectly, they all giggled.

“It’s my turn,” Tracey announced jovially, “Never have I ever had a boy tattoo my name on his body.”

“If it has happened twice, do I drink twice?” Kurt teased.

“Twice?” Hermione whined, “I haven’t heard of once.”

“I’m only willing to share the first boy to do it,” Kurt grinned broadly as the alcohol did its work, “And that’s because we’re discussing Gregory Goyle at present.”

“You lie,” Mandy’s mouth hung open once more.

“He did it the summer between third and fourth year,” Kurt giggled like a school girl.

Tracey nodded her confirmation, “no joke, it’s under his right pec.”

“It’s even in my handwriting,” Kurt grinned as he refreshed his champagne glass.

“You are something else,” Hermione shook her head, “Never have I ever… wow, this is hard.” Hermione sipped her drink as she thought, “Never have I ever had a starter boyfriend.”

“Bitch,” the group at large chorused as they drank.

“I thought Longbottom was her starter boyfriend,” Tracey quirked a brow.

Kurt shook his head, “I’ve since learned that they were pre-teen ride or dies.” Kurt suddenly turned to Padma, “Is my brother your starter boyfriend?”

“No,” she shook her head as she spoke, “I really like Finn, Theodore Nott was my starter boyfriend.”

“Good, because you fuck with Finn, you fuck with me,” Kurt threatened her nonchalantly.

Padma chuckled, “I’m not afraid of you.”

“Never have I ever,” Kurt grinned, he realised that they were all exposing each other and was planning on following the theme, “ended a relationship in a letter.”

“I want you to know that I hate you,” Hermione groaned.

“I know that,” Kurt forced her glasses to her lips “I don’t really care, now drink.”

“Never have I ever made out with a Triwizard champion,” Padma spoke succinctly, Hermione, Kurt and Lisa each took large gulps of their drinks.

Mandy didn’t miss a beat, “Never have I ever let a guy get to second base…” everyone rolled their eyes, “today.”

“I hope you die,” Lisa groaned as she downed the rest of her drink. Kurt quirked a brow, “I might have given someone a handjob.”

“By someone she means Harry Potter,” Mandy giggled.

“You’re an awful friend,” Lisa fell backward, looking up at the ceiling, “We’re getting back together now that I’m sure he’s not gay.”

Hermione furrowed her brow, “You thought he was gay?”

“He talks about Kurt a lot,” Lisa covered her eyes as her cheeks turned pink, “I thought he was in love with you.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Kurt giggled.

“Everyone talks about Kurt a lot,” Mandy explained to her friend, “it’s just weird when your boyfriend does it; Neville does it, you do it.”

Kurt grinned, “I didn’t realise I was that interesting.”

“It’s mostly people bitching about you and your friends or admirers defending you,” Tracey scoffed, “you’re really not that interesting.”

“I love that I can always rely on you to cut me off at the knees,” Kurt flashed a saccharine smile.

“At least I’m consistent,” her eyes were dead and her tone flat.

“Never have I ever,” Lisa’s voice cut through them, “made out with a Hufflepuff.”

Padma glared at her, then looked over the group as Hermione, Kurt and Mandy took sips of their drinks, “Kurt I get but you two.”

“Finn wasn’t always your boyfriend,” Mandy shrugged.

“I’m sure there’s a nicer way to put that,” Hermione smiled politely.

“Nobody cares,” Tracey charged her glass, “never have I ever made out with a Weasley.”

Hermione, Kurt and Mandy drank. Kurt and Hermione exchanged a look, “You made out with a Weasley?” They chorused, “Me? You did it too! Who was it?”

“Was it Hipster Weasley?” Hermione narrowed her gaze.

“No,” Kurt crossed his arms, “did you make out with Hipster Weasley?”

“Of course not,” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Who was it?”

“It was one time,” Hermione raised her hands defensively.

“This is too good,” Tracey giggled with glee, “I thought we were all getting a break but this is even better.”

“I did not make out with Ron Weasley,” Hermione snapped, “it was George…” Hermione furrowed her brow, “Or it was possibly Fred, or both.”

“Both?” Lisa exclaimed.

“I was drunk,” Hermione shrugged, “I was already seeing double.”

Kurt cleared his throat, “Who did Mandy make out with?”

“Aren’t you going to confess to making out with Ron and make ‘Humsley’ cannon?” Hermione smirked at him.

“I will confess to nothing of the sort,” Kurt pursed his lips, “Share Brocklehurst.”

“I’d like exercise my fifth amendment right not to incriminate myself,” Mandy said with a self-satisfied smile.

“You don’t have fifth amendment rights,” Hermione snapped.

“Granted,” Kurt nodded, “but she does have the right to remain silent about making out with Ron.”

“Is Ron the girl one?” Mandy mumbled loudly.

“Ten points to Slytherin,” Tracey exclaimed as she and Kurt high-fived.

“What can I say?” Mandy shrugged, “I’m adventurous.”

Kurt pursed his lips and furrowed his brow, “Should we be concerned about how nobody wants to make out with Ron?”

“Lavender Brown would set herself on fire for the opportunity,” Padma offered, “my sister will not shut up about it.”

“He just needs to put some work into it,” Lisa explained, “I didn’t just give Harry Potter a handjob, he earned it.”

“How does one earn a handjob,” Mandy countered quizzically.

Lisa’s shoulders slumped, “Okay, I did just give him a handy but he looked so cute with his diary and being surprised to see me, there wasn’t anyone else in the library; nature earned it for him.”

“Lisa,” Tracey leaned over the centre of the circle and cupped Lisa’s face, “you don’t have to justify giving a handjob to anyone, if you want to give Harry Potter a handjob than do it girl.” She took her seat once more and sipped her champagne, “but you are right about Weasley seeming completely lacking in initiative.”

“I’ll have to have a meeting with him on the matter,” Kurt nodded to himself, “Whose turn is it?”

“Hermione,” Mandy pointed a slender finger.

“Don’t be salty,” Kurt slurred, “We’re all drunk.”

“I will be as salty as I want,” Hermione huffed as she refilled her glass, “Never have I ever…” Hermione fell over sideways but immediately shot back up into sitting position, “been intimate with a quidditch player.”

“You are so drunk,” Padma shook her head, “You dated Viktor Krum.”

“I remember,” Hermione grinned, “I’m not being salty, it’s something we’ve all done. We can all drink.”

“I apologise on behalf of my friend,” Kurt shook his head, “I brought her here when I was under the impression that she was smart enough to understand a statement as simple as ‘Never have I ever’.”

“I’m the smartest person here,” Hermione slurred, “I’m the brightest witch of the age…” Hermione swayed as she tried to point a finger at Kurt, “I can’t remember where I was going with this but it was good.”

“I’m sure it was babes,” Kurt smiled condescendingly at her, “I’m really sure.”

~0~

Kurt and Hermione stood hand in hand looking up at where Mr Filch was hammering Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four, Professor Umbridge had changed the law to further moderate their thoughts even further. She hit Kurt where it hurt second most, that was two for two; First she had tried to limit his education but Kurt had fought back by founding their underground Defence Against the Dark Arts group and their teaching group, she was now going after all student groups and societies which meant that Kurt was going to lose SPEW.

“Guys, I just came from the Kitchen and do I have news,” Neville panted as he and Mandy came to rest beside the pair, “Firstly, the elves are all over the winter clothes, they’re actually a success.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Kurt shook his head.

“What do you mean it doesn’t matter?” Neville shook his head, “we’re achieving exactly what we set out to do with this initiative.”

“It’s over Neville,” tears welled up in his eyes.

“I don’t-”

“By law all Hogwarts clubs now have to be approved by the High Inquisitor,” Hermione sobbed.

Neville followed her gaze to the signage announcing the newest educational decree, “we’ll get approved.”

“No Neville,” Mandy placed her hand on Neville’s shoulder and pulled him into her, “Umbridge has a voting record in the Wizengamot that leaves something to be desired, she has voted repeatedly for the restriction of the movement sentient non-wizard magical creatures.” Mandy let out a defeated sigh, “There is no way that she’ll approve a club that works against that?”

“Is this how it ends?” Neville’s voice was soft and distant.

“Not necessarily,” Mandy gave a bright smile, “I think this is an opportunity to pivot into a guerrilla movement, press the Ministry for Magic for real reform outside our capacity as a club.”

“She’s right,” Hermione nodded, wiping her tears away, “it doesn’t have to end this way.”

Kurt cackled suddenly, Mandy furrowed her brow and placed a hand on his shoulder to steady the crumbling boy, “Are you alright?”

“I always thought that if we needed to make powerful allies by making out with them that I’d have to be the one to do it,” Kurt let loose another laugh, “but I’m so proud of you Neville.”

“Glad to be considered a powerful ally,” Mandy gave a tart smile.

“If you’re proud of me now and you like her now,” Neville grinned to himself, “wait till we tell you what else we have, Mandy.”

“Have you ever read of the come and go room?”

“The room of requirement?” Hermione furrowed her brow, “it’s a myth, said to be the crowning jewel of the Hogwarts’ architecture.”

“Don’t let yourself be fooled by the shroud of myth,” Kurt shook his head, “the Chamber of Secrets was a myth and that did not stop you from being petrified by the monster inside.” Kurt nodded to himself, “Professor Dumbledore once mentioned an exquisite bathroom on the seventh floor that he never encountered ever again.”

“On the left corridor,” Neville nodded.

“How did you find it?” Hermione squealed as she took off toward the grand staircase.

“Dobby told us about it,” Neville smiled as they chased Hermione up the stairs.

“I can’t believe it,” Hermione giggled to herself, “Do you understand what the existence of the room of requirement means?”

“Not really,” Neville shook his head as they all tried to keep up with the overly excited Hermione, “not a clue.”

“Based on what the room is said to be able to do, what people understand about enchantments will be blown out of the water,” Kurt explained, “the level of enchantment required to create a room that does all that the room of requirement does is unfathomable.”

“The room is said to behave as if it were imbued with magic instead of enchanted,” Mandy grinned as they came to rest facing a clear brick wall with the tapestry of Barnibus the Barny behind them, “Reacting to the user’s needs.”

Hermione paced back and forth, a simple door appeared and they filed in. They entered a large room with foam matting, fighting dummies and an area with a punching bag; Hermione grinned, “You get the idea.”

“Neville,” Kurt grinned, “Go get Harry, Ron and Luna.” Kurt twirled on the spot, “I think we’re ready to begin.”


	8. Chapter 8

In the time since Mandy and Neville had led them to the room of requirement Kurt and Hermione had spent a significant portion of their time trying to figure out and perfect the logistics of the self-defence group.

The first thing on their list was trying to figure out when and how they could meet without drawing too much attention to themselves and without strictly falling into the school’s definition of a club. Kurt had decided that they should have their meetings almost randomly, at infrequent and unmodulated intervals. This way their disappearance wouldn’t be as jarring when it was noticed.

Next on their list was figuring out a way to communicate with the members of the group without non-members suspecting or discovering that they were up to something. Hermione’s solution to this was leprechaun gold that was fashioned to resemble a galleon, she enchanted these coins with the protean charm which allowed the serial number around outer rim to change into the time and date of their next meeting; she had been inspired by the Dark Mark but thought too much of branding her peers.

The last thing on their list was the best way to structure their lessons for maximum retention, this was solved by their tutoring club collectively. As they started helping people they tried a number of methods and lesson configurations before they came to a conclusion: they found that the most convenient and effective lesson plan included; telling your student what would be covered, going over a number of broad topics, giving them time to explore and interact with the content on their own, and then consolidating the work.

Kurt was sitting in the once more abandoned transfiguration classroom and opposite him was Pansy Parkinson, furiously scribbling in her note book as Kurt as he answered her questions. Kurt and she were not exactly friends but they had grown beyond being adversaries into comfortable peers; they were covering dark creatures as a supplement for both their Dark Arts and Defence Against the Dark Arts curriculums.

“Werewolves are almost entirely impervious to magic when in their wolf forms,” Kurt explained, “only a very specific set of spells are effective against them but also only in the hands of a skilled spell caster.”

“One of those spells is the petrification curse,” Pansy nodded to herself as the cogs in her head turned, “Why is that spell so effective?  It seems to transcend the limits of even the darkest magic, why is that?”

“Because of the nature of the spell,” Kurt smirked, impressed by the calibre of her questions, “the petrification curse is very primitive, it is magic that lacks the sophistication modern magic but is as a result a lot purer. The petrification curse was created in an attempt to imitate nature-”

“Like the fiend fire?” her face lit up.

“Exactly like the fiend fire, that spell was earliest form of fire manipulation,” Kurt flourished his hands and a bright flame danced between them, “from a time before magic was concentrated by wands, almost completely harmless without a wand.” Kurt took Pansy’s hand in his and made the flames dance over the surface without even singeing a single one of the fine hairs on the back of her hand, “but still possessing the potential to be dangerous.”

“And the same principle applies to the petrification curse,” she nodded, “it’s primitive nature in conjunction with its concentration as a result of the use of a wand makes it an omnipotent spell.”

“Pretty much.”

“Last on the list are Dementors,” Pansy rolled her eyes.

Kurt quirked a curious brow, “Not a fan?”

“Not particularly,” Pansy sneered, “nothing against the creature but whenever their mentioned on school grounds people always make it about your attention grabbing boyfriend.” She slumped her head, “it’s always ‘you remember when Potter fainted?’ or ‘Potter defeated a hundred dementors’ and it gets old.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Kurt shook his head, “he’s dating Lisa Turpin and I’m single.”

“Yeah whatever.”

“Speaking of Lisa Turpin,” Kurt’s lips curled his lips into a sinister smile, “did you hear about how she gave him a handjob in the library?”

“In the library?” Pansy’s jaw hung open, “not even Daphne is that brave, sure she’ll beej someone in the common room when she thinks nobody is around.”

“That girl is low key my hero,” Kurt smirked, “I wish I had the moxxy to blow every senior Slytherin boy.”

“Not every boy,” Pansy reminded him, “there’s still one hold out, but it’s admirable feat none the less. She only dedicated herself to this mission maybe six weeks ago and just the other week she’d only done the seventh years.”

“She gained momentum near the end,” Kurt agreed.

“You think she’s not afraid of getting a reputation?”

“A reputation for playing these fools for her own enjoyment?” Kurt quirked a brow, “I hope she does, they should give her an award for owning what she wants. Someday I’ll tell Hermione’s children about her.”

Pansy quirked a sinister brow, “Not your own children?”

“The only place I have children is in my nightmares,” Kurt scoffed, “Even then there’s only one of them.”

“Oh wow,” Kurt watched her shrug as if she had something to say but was forcing herself to keep it to herself; Kurt nodded sympathetically as he watched her wrestle between what she’d been taught and what she was learning for herself, an internal struggle that Kurt wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy. Pansy shook the moment and flashed Kurt a small but genuine smile, “so, other than their properties, what can they ask us about dementors?”

“They’ll expect you to know a thing or two you about the patronus charm,” Kurt smiled, “this is a question that will probably be in the essay section rather than in short questions, so this is additional information for if you want a distinction.” Kurt flipped through his journal to the page on dementors, “tell them the nature of the charm; that it creates a light guardian made of pure happiness that the dementors feed off instead of feeding on the wizard.”

“That’s all?”

“There’s always more,” Kurt giggled, “You should offer a more obscure piece of information; like telling the examiner that the light guardian takes on the form of an animal that is a representation of the caster, a well-known fact, but by adding that while they may be rare some wizards’ patronuses take the form of magical creatures and this is considered to be the mark of a truly powerful wizard.”

Pansy nodded to herself, “that’s interesting.”

“And it creates the illusion that you are engaged with the subject matter,” Kurt smirked, “increasing the likelihood of the marker being lenient.”

“I think that’s enough for today,” Pansy packed her books and started to get up, “I’ll see you later.”

“Sure,” Kurt smiled sweetly, “let me know if you have any more questions.”

She nodded and turned to the door but stopped just short of opening it, she turned back but didn’t move closer, “My mum…” Kurt took a deep breath as she faltered over her words, not sure what it was she would say, “Never mind.”

Kurt got to his feet and stepped around the desk that had separated them a moment ago, “you can say it.”

“It was stupid,” Pansy shook her head, “forget I said anything.”

“It’s not in my nature to forget so unless you want me all night thinking about what you could have possibly had to say that you felt you couldn’t share freely with me, please say what it is you were going to say.”

“My mum once told me that there weren’t always dementors,” Pansy blushed, “that unlike most creatures that have always lived alongside wizardkind and came to be as they are over time, dementors were created by wizards.” She took a deep breath, “Could I put that in my essay?”

“That is very interesting but because it hasn’t been substantiated by a verified source you would have to sight it as speculation,” Kurt smiled shyly, “it would be a very good insert though.”

She nodded and left without saying another word.

~0~

_The Glen, Scotland._

_17 th November 988._

_07:34 PM._

Rowena was working the room, thanking people for making the travel to her birthday soirée as was polite; she shook the hands of distinguished gentlemen, Kissing Ladies of society on the cheek, making promises to see people again once the season had begun once more. The ladies doted on her, they all wanted her to meet their sons; this one’s son was a duke, that one’s son was next in line for the English throne; it seemed that every son was more distinguished than the last and yet they were all still surprisingly single.

Rowena caught sight of a face she actually wanted to see but lost it in the crowd just as quickly as it had appeared. She continued to work the room, speaking with her father’s guests and making promises she knew nobody expected her to keep. Rowena had been skirting on the edge of dance floor, avoiding being pulled into the farce. A strong hand laid on her shoulder, she turned to face Haim Black; the man’s severe face contorted into a smile that was barely visible behind his full dishwater beard and Rowena knew what was coming next.

“Good Evening my lady,” he gave a small bow and the eyes all around them turned to them.

“Haim,” she curtsied back, with a polite giggle, “Why are you being so formal? I wasn’t sure whether I should call you call you Count Black, Lord-Secretary or Captain General.”

“Haim is always the safest choice,” the voice was not booming and commanding as you would expect of man of his esteem, it was more on the humble side and soothing. He held out a well manicure hand that might have made someone who had not witnessed his prowess at war doubt the validity of his valour, “May I have the honour of the first dance?”

Rowena placed her hand in his, “I can’t think of anyone more deserving than one of my oldest and dearest friends.”

 The orchestra changed the music to a smooth waltz, the dance floor cleared as they moved to the centre. Rowena had low expectations for her friend’s abilities but was pleasantly surprised when the man’s body loosened and glided on the smooth melody of the string instruments as they flooded the room, he went with their current as smoothly as if were part of him.

“I’m impressed,” she smiled pleasantly.

“It’s quite surprising,” he nodded, his words juxtaposing his body with their staccato nature, “I understand that.”

“I don’t mean-”

“I’m a very stern man,” Haim elaborated, “I come across as impassive and set in my ways, to see me dance this way is probably jarring.”

“The surprise is a pleasant one,” she assured him.

“Rowena,” his tone was absolute, “I have something rather serious to discuss with you, may I speak freely?”

“Of course,” Her breath caught in her throat as she wondered what Haim would want to speak to her about so desperately.

“ _Muffliato_ ,” the man whispered the words and they were enveloped in a cocoon of silence. His blue eyes pierced into her, “Rowena, you know of my nature.”

Rowena’s eyes grew wide, she had always suspected and she had joked of the man’s nature but to hear him confess it to her was something else completely. Rowena tried to formulate the diplomatic response but her mind was reeling, “I’ve had my suspicions, yes.”

“Well,” Haim let out a tired sigh, “You’re not the only one.”

Worry filled Rowena’s eyes as the man’s face fell very subtly, “what’s wrong?”

“Victor Parkinson,” Haim kept moving as smoothly and his tone remained impassive but there was sadness in his eyes, “The Under-Secretary for Education, he’s after my job and he’s threatened me.”

“What did he say?” Rowena tried to supress her anger but she was sure it shone through in her tone.

“He said I was going to have to suck my next job out of someone else’s cock,” Haim’s words faltered, “because the minister would save his own skin when it came down to it.”

“You and George?”

Haim shook his head, “but people would forget about my years of experience in light of such an accusation, and George wouldn’t stick his neck out for me.”

“My darling,” Rowena felt guilty about how she’d made light of her friend’s difficult life, making light of his nature without understanding what it meant in his life, “I’m working with Victor, I created his job, and if you would like I could speak with him.”

“Word is circulating and if not him then another hungry vulture will come for the thing that matters most in my life,” he recomposed himself, “my job is my everything.”

“What is there to be done?”

“If I had a wife,” Haim’s face fell in a way she had never seen it do before, “If you would be my wife.”

“Haim,” she shook her head very subtly, “you know-”

“I know,” the man nodded, “I’ve tried to court you countless times, but I would be a kind and encouraging husband.” His eyes pleaded with her, “My family is very wealthy and powerful, you would want for nothing and I would spend the rest of my life trying to make you happy.”

“My love,” she smiled sadly, “I have no doubt that you would be a husband like no other but I cannot resign myself to a life polite companionship, I long for passion.”

“I understand,” he nodded, “I expected this answer but I had to ask one last time.”

“We’ll petition the minister to change the law,” Rowena shook her head, “ensure protection of people’s employment regardless of their nature.”

“My nature isn’t the problem,” Haim shook his head, “the problem is the prejudices that exist that make rumours like this one dangerous to the merits of my work; I have worked tirelessly to ensure that my nature and my work were separate so that the quality of my work would never be questioned.”

“Haim,” she reached out to him but he cleared his throat and the noise of the party returned.

He bowed and smiled once more, his beard obscuring it, “nothing could ruin what we have, you might be my only friend. Thank you for the dance.”

Rowena turned and moved toward the powder room, her steps decisive and radiating an air that forbade people from approaching her, she closed the door behind her and took a deep breath. She had denied one of her dearest friends for a man who hadn’t so much as hinted at an interest in her, she had potentially destroyed his world for a man she had dreamed to completion because she barely knew him; she needed a drink. Rowena made sure her make-up was still flawless before exiting the powder room, she made quick work of getting a glass of champagne.

“You look lovely this evening,” the voice was soft as a whisper but carried a strong power in it.

“Salazar,” she turned and smiled at the man as fiddled with his spectacles, fixing them on the bridge of his crooked nose, “You came.”

“How could I stay away?” he teased, “Helga tells the legend of your soirées.” He held up a silencing finger, “I brought a gift.”

“If it’s your friend then I’ll pass,” Rowena rolled her eyes, she lowered her voice and imitated the man’s flamboyant gestures, “I’m Godric Gryffindor, hold the applause. My hometown was renamed in my honour for my classified work in the defeat of Anais Haddad-Schmidt, which I’m now going to tell you all about as middle finger to the establishment.”

“He’s right behind you.”

She turned and there the man was with a plump woman on his arm and plate of pastries between them, “Godric.” Rowena smiled politely, “thank you for coming.”

There was an awkward silence before the woman on Godric’s arm chuckled, “She does you so well Godric, that’s what he said to me verbatim.” She popped a pastry into her mouth and moaned in pleasure, “these are amazing, Helga of Kiev.”

“Charmed to make your acquaintance,” Rowena kissed the woman on the cheek, “Are you two?”

“No,” Godric shook his head, “Helga is here because she’s between husbands.”

“The Sultan died,” she shrugged, “but Godric was coming to this party, so I decided to join him.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Rowena smiled.

“Nevermind that,” she waved her hand dismissively, “give her the gift.”

Salazar produced a navy jewellery box, she read the note, “As beautiful as you are, love Salazar.” She opened the box and inside was a diadem with a large sapphire in the centre and pearls accenting it, “It’s lovely, thank you Salazar.”

“Let me help you,” he stepped closer to her and unclipped her feathered hair grip, she could feel his breath on her forehead as he fixed the diadem in her hair. He stayed close to her and bent down, “You look lovely.”

***

Kurt sat up in his bed with a start, Bomballerina lifted her head but he shook his and she went back to sleep. After putting on his spectacles and checking the time, Kurt slipped on his slippers and his robe, grabbing his wand as he moved toward the door. Kurt moved quickly and silently with his wand casting a small ball of light as his mind swam, paying little attention to where he was going until he was pulled back to reality by his collision with a larger body.

Kurt looked up to see Gregory Goyle, the boy extended a hand to help him up, “Hi Kurt, what are you doing out of bed this late?”

“I’m a prefect,” Kurt pursed his lips, “I’m exempt from curfew, what are you doing out of bed?”

“I had to take a swazz,” the boy shrugged.

“Back to bed with you,” Kurt spoke dismissively, walking around the stationary boy.

“Late night randez-vous?”

“Excuse me?” Kurt turned on his heels, “do you think I would go to a randez-vous looking like this?”

“You look nice,” Gregory shrugged once more, crossing his large arms confidently.

“I know,” Kurt smiled condescendingly, “but I can look a lot better.” The boy held his position, “if you must know, I’ve been struck with sudden genius for my History of Magic extra credit report.”

Gregory quirked a brow, “the library is closed.”

“I’m not going to the library,” Kurt’s smiled broadened, “I need to talk to a painting.” The boy was unmoved, “feel free to follow me if you don’t believe me.”

“Midnight stroll,” the boy grinned broadly, “this is totally a date.”

“It’s two AM,” Kurt corrected as the boy followed him out the common room, “and this is in no way a date.”

“It is so a date,” the boy declared jovially.

Kurt glared at him, “don’t make me regret bringing you.”

They walked in a comfortable silence for a moment until Gregory broke it, “why won’t you date me?”

“Excuse me?” Kurt stopped in his tracks, surprised by the question.

Gregory gestured for them to keep walking, “You know I like you, everyone does, but you won’t give me a chance; why?” the silence returned but it was palpably awkward now, “I’m not ugly, some might say I’m cute. These biceps are amazing.”

Kurt giggled, “you really want to have this conversation?”

“I make you laugh,” the boy pulled a funny face and pointed a finger at him until he couldn’t help laughing, “See?” the boy punched the air triumphantly before turning serious, “is it the letters? Are they too much?”

“The letters are a lot,” Kurt nodded.

“I was trying to be romantic,” he blushed, “Nott said it was a good idea.”

“It would be,” Kurt shrugged as they climbed the grand staircase, “if I loved on the other side of town and not in the next room.”

“So you won’t date me because I’m coming on too strong?”

“I’ve never really thought of it,” Kurt shrugged, “it’s said that we’re an average of the people around us, I think there’s a core self there too.” Kurt smiled politely, “with you, there’s nothing where you should be. You’re only who Draco wants you to be?”

“That’s…” Gregory ran his fingers through his curls, “I can’t say it’s untrue.”

“I’m sorry,” Kurt shrugged.

“One last question,” Gregory furrowed his brow, “why does Draco’s grandmother ask after you?”

Kurt smiled awkwardly, “It’s complicated.” They reached the top of the stairs and Kurt stared hungrily up at the sleeping painting that stood in front of the Gryffindor common room, “Helga.”

“You know her name?” Gregory gaped as she woke up.

“You woke me,” Helga sighed dejectedly, “Love, you know I can’t let you in-” her gaze caught on Gregory, “Who is the muscle? He’s cute.”

“See!” Gregory beamed.

“Please don’t encourage him,” Kurt shook his head, “Gregory Goyle, Helga of Kiev.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” she quirked a seductive brow.

“Let’s focus,” Kurt snapped, “I woke you to ask you a question.”

“Make it quick,” she snapped back, “I want to go back to sleep, radiance like mine doesn’t just happen.”

“Who is Anais Haddad-Schmidt?” Kurt beamed up at her.

“I never thought someone would ask me that question,” She gave a knowing smile, “It’s quite the story.”


	9. Chapter 9

_Duchy of Saxony, Carolingian Empire._

_05 January 985_

_07:36 PM_

“It is almost done,” the woman pressed the silver rattle to her red lips and left an imprint of her rouge on the smooth sterling surface, “we’ll soon have what we need.”

“So it seems,” Her husband agreed, placing her wine at her side and bowing to her grandeur, “It will soon be possible for us to reach our greatest dreams.”

“What we’re about achieve has always been a possibility,” The women smirked sultrily, “it is not about the possibilities, it is about ability! The ability to do the unimaginable.”

“I know,” Conrad rolled his eyes, “It’s about to come within our grasp.”

“Within our grasp?” The woman scoffed, “the one thing we want most is about to become a reality.”

“I know,” he nodded, “We’re about to do the unthinkable.”

“We’re about to turn children’s tales into undoubtable truths,” she chuckled jovially, “We’re about to change what magic itself means.” She shook her head and giggled to herself, “we’re about to change what reality itself means!”

“Anais,” the man ran his thick fingers over her snow white skin, kissing her on the forehead where her flame red hair met her pale skin and holding her face in his hands, “will it all be worth it in the end?”

“We’ll have the one thing that we’ve wanted for so long,” she looked up into the sad brown eyes of her greying husband, “Why should we never have our truest happiness? Why does joy allude us? Why should we not go after our greatest desire with both hands ready to receive it?”

“Is the cost not too great?” he held her in his arms, enveloping her tiny frame in his arms.

Anais stepped out of the man’s embrace, “Conrad, do not toy with my emotions so.”

“But think of the carnage of innocents that we’ve committed,” Conrad countered, “is the panicle of evil not the indifference to the suffering of innocents and our eagerness to carry them with us into oblivion with little regard for their lives and places in the universe?”

Anais gently caressed the man’s face with her nails before grabbing his jaw in her palm and digging her nails into his cheeks, “You’re afraid, you stink of fear and weakness.” She released him, pushing him backward and onto his knees, “Are you so weak that you cannot take back what was taken from us?”

“This is not a question of strength,” Conrad shook his head, “this is me asking you if we’re doing the right thing by serving our own interests with little regard for anything else?”

“How do you mean?” Anais hugged herself, “How can you say such a thing?”

“We’ve created monsters that suck the happiness from the world,” Conrad shook his head, “have we not gone too far?”

“Too far?” Anais shook her head in disbelief, “Is there such a thing as too far?” her whole body shook with her head because of her minuscular size, “Think about why we’re doing this and tell me again that we’ve gone too far.”

“I do think of why we’re doing this,” Conrad snapped, standing at his full height causing his wife to shrink before his great size, “that’s why I believe there should be a limit to the things we are willing to do.”

“How can you say such a thing?” Anais’s hand made a loud smacking sound as she slapped her husband, “Did you even love him?”

“It’s because I loved him that I have to ask these questions,” Conrad grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her into him.

“Don’t think you can seduce me with your unfeeling words,” she fought his embrace but his arms enveloped her regardless of her struggle, “He was my everything.”

“He was my everything,” Conrad dragged her to the window and forced her to look over the baron, frozen estate, “but is this a life you’d want for our boy?”

“He was my baby,” she shook her head, “he was taken from me! Taken too soon!”

“But the truth is we’ve gone too far,” Conrad held her, a cold silence washing over the pair, “We need to let him go.”

Anais sat still in his arms for a heartbeat, when she spoke her words were colder than the night air, “if you’ve gone too far then you’re free to leave.” She shook herself out of his embrace, “he was my baby and I have a way to bring him back, I’m not going to give it up because of a thousand strangers and some creatures that go bump in the night.”

“I would never leave you,” Conrad bowed his head, “I will stand beside you no matter what, I love you.”

She tossed him his wand, “Then get ready, we still have bounty to collect.”

“If you’re sure this is what you want,” Conrad nodded solemnly.

“I’ve never wanted anything more,” she smiled malevolently.

Conrad relented to his wife’s desires, “then I will willingly follow you into oblivion.”

~0~

Kurt fell into the seat opposite Hermione and Finn with a malevolent grin, “You’ll never guess who _Witch Weekly_ interviewed.”

“Viktor,” Hermione rolled her eyes, unimpressed by what he chose to call news, “he told me about the interview, they did it when he was in the country for a friendly against England.”

“Are you two still a thing?” Finn furrowed his brow, pulling his hand from where he had been stroking Hermione’s hand platonically, “I don’t think I can take him in a fight.” Finn shook his head dramatically, “nor would I want to, Padma and I are very happy! She lets me feel her boobs without turning out to be Neville Longbottom the next day!”

“That was your own doing!” Hermione snapped, “I had nothing to do with you making out with Neville!” she crossed her arms and turned away from the tall boy, “and I’m sure Neville didn’t seduce you under false pretences!”

“Weren’t you Hermione Granger on that night?” Kurt quirked a curious brow.

“I wasn’t insinuating any wrong doing on Neville’s part,” Finn held his hands up in surrender, ignoring Kurt’s question, “I just expect that when I say I made out with Hermione Granger, to have made out with Hermione Granger.”

“I will never have any desire to say that but I understand the appeal,” Kurt shrugged.

“And what might that be?” Hermione smirked, “Is it the yellow gym dresses?”

“That was one time,” Kurt shuddered, “and I meant having made out with the brightest witch of the age.” Kurt fixed an imaginary stray hair, “I’d know what Haim Black missed out on when Rowena refused to marry him.”

“You’ve had another dream,” Hermione gasped.

“You have to tell us if you’re still with Viktor Krum before you hear anything about Anais Haddad-Schmidt,” Finn snapped in a totalitarian tone that made Kurt proud, “Kurt, don’t you dare say another word.”

“Strictly speaking,” Hermione shook her head, “we’re enjoying each other’s intellect.”

“That’s ambiguous at best,” Finn shook his head, “why would Kurt ask if he didn’t want details?”

“I didn’t ask,” Kurt hissed at his brother, “You did.”

“Whatever,” the boy rolled his eyes, “speak Ms Granger!”

“I don’t know if there’s anything left to say outside of what I’ve already said,” Hermione furrowed her brow in profound contemplation, “We’re not dating because distance makes it impossible, like Kurt and Noah.”

“I have no interest in dating Noah Puckerman,” Kurt shook his head.

“I’ve read the letters,” Hermione and Finn chorused.

“You want to climb him like a mountain,” Finn growled seductively.

“You want to have his babies almost as much as you want little Weasleys in your future,” Hermione giggled.

Finn sneered and shook his head, “don’t think you can distract us with your Hipster Weasley fan theories.”

“Exactly babes! Have you read the interview?” Kurt bounced excitedly, receiving a loud shushing from Madam Pince.

“To be perfectly honest, I’m not a huge fan of _Witch Weekly_ ,” Hermione shook her head, “Didn’t know you were one either.”

“I’m not,” Kurt shook his head, “Pansy showed me the article.”

Finn furrowed his brow, “Why?”

“Because we’re tight like that,” Kurt shrugged smugly.

“Not ‘why is pansy showing you things’,” Finn rolled his eyes, “Why would she show you an interview with Viktor Krum?”

“Because he mentions Hermione by name,” Kurt squealed excitedly, holding the magazine just out of Hermione’s grasp, “and because Hermione is my friend and Pansy isn’t there yet with their friendship.”

Hermione nodded solemnly, “Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

“And we’re doing fourteen years of unteaching,” Finn agreed.

“I’m sorry but who are you unteaching what?” Hermione quirked a curious brow, “because Kurt and, more reluctantly, I are the ones unteaching the Slytherins their blood prejudice.”

“Do you think these abs are always out by chance?” Finn asked as he raised his shirt.

“Firstly, you don’t have abs,” Kurt shook his head, “Secondly, you are definitely playing your part by being the best boyfriend at Hogwarts. Thirdly, I really need Hermione to hear this before I roast her.”

“Let me see,” Hermione growled as she snatched the long extended magazine from his hand.

Kurt shook his head and grinned malevolently, “It’ll be more fun if I read it to you.” He snatched the magazine back, smirked and cleared his throat, “so much more fun.”

“Then get on with it,” Hermione huffed, crossing her arms impatiently, “while I’m still young.”

Kurt cleared his throat once more and began to read the article, “ _We’re in the midlands for a friendly quidditch match between Bulg-_ ”

“Skip to the part that mentions me,” Hermione snapped, reaching for the magazine, “Or shall I read it myself?”

“ _We took a moment to speak to Bulgarian Bonbon, teenage heartthrob and national seeker Viktor Krum about the more intimate details of his life and we were feeling cheeky, when asked what kind of underwear he wore the seeker simply responded with ‘ask Hermione Granger’_ ,” Kurt gasped loudly, “Somebody has been a naughty girl and keeping it from me.

“He did not say that,” Hermione shook her head.

Finn nodded his head solemnly as he read the article, having snatched the magazine from Kurt, “it’s right here in black and white.”

“That explains why Lisa high-fived me this morning,” Hermione deflated, “she probably thinks I give handjobs in the library now as well.”

“To a guy who is on the other side of the English Channel?” Kurt shook his head, “I don’t think even you’re that good. Besides, we’re not judging Lisa for that, she could probably do better than Harry but if she chooses to give him handjobs that is her prerogative.”

“Nobody is judging Lisa Turpin,” Hermione held her hands up in surrender, “but Harry?”

“I made out with Harry Potter,” Finn squealed defensively, “Also, why didn’t you tell me Lisa and Harry were a thing again?”

“Why didn’t your girlfriend tell you?” Hermione snapped back.

“She did but I wanted to hear it from you two as well,” Finn crossed his arms, “It’s like I don’t know you any more.”

“You don’t,” the pair chorused with matching scowls.

“You spend all your time with Padma now,” Hermione crossed her arms.

“Don’t let her distract you,” Kurt shook his head as he tapped the magazine that now sat between them, “Keep your eye on the ball.”

“You’ve been holding out on us Mione,” Finn shook his head, “I came and told you straight after the first time Padma let me feel her boobs, how could you do this to us?”

“I’m not the only one who is keeping things from the group,” Hermione held her hands up in surrender, “Kurt went on a moonlit stroll with Gregory Goyle.”

“The moon was not out that night,” Kurt shook his head, “I’m almost certain.”

“Are you and Goyle a thing now?” Finn gasped, “who do I have left to trust?”

“I will answer my questions once we’ve gotten to the bottom of the Hermione knowing what kind of underwear Viktor wears,” Kurt scowled at his best friend, “you have to tell me or I’ll draw my own conclusions and tell Mandy.”

“And she’ll tell all the Ravenclaws and Neville,” Finn clarified, “are we ever going to talk about how Neville got over all three of us and ended up with one of the prettiest girls in school, with the greatest boobs?”

“I’m sorry if Neville is over you,” Kurt pursed his lips, “but he will love me till his death, regardless of who outlives whom.”

“Lucky you,” Finn rolled his eyes, “How grand it must be to be the chosen one.”

“That’s me,” Kurt smirked, “the chosen one, the Luke Skywalker of this mother fucker.” Kurt quickly turned his attention back to his best friend, “now tell me Han, what has this scruffy nerf herder been up to?”

Hermione’s shoulders slumped, “are you going to make me say it in front of Finn?”

“I’m a person,” the tall boy snapped, “Also, Padma brought the last gossip and so it is my turn to spill the tea.”

“You can tell her about Kurt and Goyle,” Hermione’s tone became intimidating, “not this! If you breathe a word of this to anyone I will end you.”

“We’ll clog his mind with other things,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “tell me everything.”

Hermione took a deep breath, “it all starts on the night of the Yule ball.”

“The night Cedric and I slept outside because you stole my keys,” Kurt quirked a brow.

“I mentioned we had a conversation,” Hermione nodded to herself, “of sorts.”

“You most certainly did not,” Kurt’s jaw went slack.

“Luna mentioned the stubble burn,” Hermione shrugged and Kurt put his fist in his mouth to suppress a giggle, “we’d practiced the dark arts as you’d put it.”

“You took him to muff town?” Kurt held fistfuls of his hair to stop from screaming.

“It’s pronounced Dufftown,” Finn shook his head.

Kurt smirked at his brother, “think about it.”

There was a moment of silence before Finn’s face lit up, “You let him get to third base?”

“Your stubble burn was…” Kurt gestured with his hands instead of using his words, a malevolent grin ruining his beautiful face, “this is why I love her like I raised her.”

“I thought you love Neville like you raised him,” Finn furrowed his brow in confusion.

“I’m capable of loving more than one person at a time,” Kurt snapped.

“Is this about how you’re kind of with Gregory Goyle and Terry Boot at the same time?” Finn smirked.

“This has nothing to do with me, we’ll get to my indecisiveness later,” Kurt held up a silencing finger, “Tell me more Hermione.”

“I doubt he has a car,” Finn rolled his eyes.

“This is not the moment for really great Grease reference,” Kurt snapped.

“As I was saying,” Hermione chuckled, “he went down on me.”

“And gave you stubble burn,” Kurt and Finn crooned in time.

Hermione smirked in return, “which was when I made the informed decision to forfeit both Viktor and I’s next Hogsmead visit in lieu of…” Hermione seemed to think of her words carefully, “becoming a woman.”

“You didn’t?”

“Not entirely,” she shook her head innocently, “But I’m not the same bushy haired girl I once was, I’m grown now.”

“What does that mean?” Finn furrowed his brow, “use your words!”

“She played his skin flute,” Kurt clapped his hands excitedly, “what kind of underwear does he wear?”

Hermione twirled her hair coyly, “Y-fronts.”

“I wear Y-fronts,” Finn gasped, slapping his hand over his open mouth. His voice dropped to a whisper, “am I Viktor Krum?”

Kurt rolled his eyes, “somebody had pills and bourbon for breakfast.”

“Nope,” Finn shook his head, “just a little bit of champagne.”

“Any way,” Hermione cleared her throat, “I’ve said my part, Kurt needs to tell us about him and Goyle, then about Anais Haddad-Schmidt!”

“Fine,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “I had this dream-”

“Start with you and Goyle,” Finn snapped.

“The two are intertwined,” Kurt huffed impatiently, “I’ll explain when I’m done, so do you want to hear the story or not?”

“Sorry,” the pair mumbled.

“My dream was of Rowena’s birthday ball,” Kurt swooned to himself, “she was wearing this beautiful blue, ruffled, silk gown and a feathered fascinator. So all the other founders are there and just after she dances with Haim Black, Guess who Godric introduces her to?”

“Because we know people from a period that was basically erased from history,” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Helga of Kiev,” Kurt clapped his hands excitedly.

Hermione’s jaw hung open, “The Fat Lady?”

“Yes,” Kurt bounced up and down in his seat, “and she mentions that Godric told her all about Anais Haddad-Schmidt.”

“Are you telling me that I’ve been speaking to the answer to one of our biggest mysteries every day?”

Finn furrowed his brow, “What does this have to do with Goyle?”

“I got out of bed as soon as I realised that there was somebody I could ask about the matter,” Kurt explained, “I kind of ran into Gregory and he accompanied me to The Fat Lady’s portrait.”

“Midnight stroll under the stars,” Finn nodded amorously, “it was totally a date.”

“It was not a date,” Kurt snapped, “I told Gregory as much, which begs the question; how did you find out?”

“Tracey saw you coming back into the common room,” Hermione smirked, “she says you’ve never looked happier and that she suspects that what they say about men with big feet is true.”

Kurt nodded to himself, “I’m satisfied with the work we’ve done on her.”

“Whoop dee-doo,” Finn spoke sarcastically, “Tell me what we know about AHD!”

“AHD?” Kurt quirked an impressed brow, “I like it.”

“You can have it, just so long as you stop keeping me waiting.”

“I want to hear a little more about Kurt and Goyle,” Hermione countered, “Like what did you talk about?”

“He asked me why I wouldn’t date him,” Kurt smiled to himself, “And argued his case by explaining that he was cute, funny and had great biceps.”

“He used the Anthony Rickett on you?” Hermione gasped, “What did you say?”

Kurt shrugged, “I, very nicely, told him it was because he was an asshole; too much of Draco’s person rather than his own.”

“Do you like him?” Hermione gasped.

“I don’t like anyone,” Kurt frowned, “I’m dead on the inside, remember how the last guy I liked died?”

“Correlation, not causation,” Finn shook his head, “Do you think I stopped having friends because Cedric died?”

“Let’s not make this about you,” Kurt wagged a reproachful finger.

Finn frowned, “okay, here’s a question that isn’t about me, are you considering Gregory Goyle as a serious suitor?”

“I…” Kurt was silent for a moment as he considered the question, “I’m not discounting him yet.” Kurt nodded to himself, “he sees the truth in my assessment and we can only wait to see who he is as his own person.”

“His proximity would be advantageous compared to other members of your desire of suitors,” Hermione smirked, “The long distance is less likely to kill you this way.”

“Why? What’d you hear?” Kurt snapped.

“Nothing,” Hermione held her hands up in surrender, “I’m sure everyone is still as in love with you as they were before.”

“Better be,” Kurt growled.

“Anais time,” Finn growled in response.

“Don’t growl at me,” Kurt glared at his brother, “Don’t make me make you have to have your own magical time travelling dreams just so you can find out about someone you wouldn’t know or care about if I hadn’t forced you.” Kurt crossed his arms, “You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

“If I were the one having the dreams we’d know a lot more because I sleep a lot more than you do,” Finn snapped back, “and I will growl if I like, just not at you in future.”

“Who’s a good boy?”

“Reward him in stories,” Hermione interjected with a dramatic eye roll.

“Fine,” Kurt leaned forward and with a solemn, stony face, he began to tell the story, “she was woman from what would today be Germany, she and her husband had a son who died as an infant. She used magic that Helga described as ‘Black’ in an effort to collect the life force of countless numbers for the power to bring back the dead, her son.” Hermione gasped, “she used black magic to suck the life force from people, in doing so she created the dementors.”

Hermione’s jaw was slack, “You mean just like Pansy said?”

Kurt nodded, “it’s such a sad and beautiful story.”

“Yes,” Finn nodded, “But what does it have to do with you?”

Kurt shook his head, “I need to find out about that spell though, it’s the only logical way forward.”

 “You want to wield the power to steal people’s souls and turn them into dementors?” Hermione quirked a brow that was somewhere between concerned and curious.

“Get off your Gryffindor high-horse,” Kurt glared at her, “I don’t want to use it, it’s how I move forward.” Kurt shook his head, “Do you think I started dreaming of Rowena Ravenclaw this year?”

“You were dreaming of her before?” Hermione gasped.

Kurt nodded, “before this it was a portion of her tenure in Hogwarts leadership, as a child it was her childhood; each carried a lesson and until I had learned what I needed from her life it haunted me.”

“Deep,” Hermione gulped, “What’d you learn from her childhood?”

“To stand up for myself,” Kurt smiled sadly, “she insisted her father hire someone who would teach her as much as they would have had she been born a boy.” His smile grew hopeful, “To see a young woman that brave, in a time when she was supposed to be ornamental was truly inspiring.”

“I see,” Hermione nodded to herself, “Where do we begin to look for a spell from a period lost in time?”

“With a visit to my grandmother,” Kurt nodded to himself, “I can get some answers from her.”

Finn furrowed his brow, “What’s in Sheffield?”

“Not that grandmother,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “I mean Druella Black.”

“How could she possibly help you?”

“There’s a portrait of Haim Black in her manor,” Kurt smirked, “I can ask him a few questions, ask her a few questions as well just to see what the family history has to say about the matter.”

“Ask Jadis as well,” Hermione nodded, “maybe there’s something more detailed on the matter in the LeStrange family history as well, they are from continental Europe after all.”

“I’ll have to send an owl and make plans,” Kurt nodded.

~0~

Ron paced nervously in front of Kurt, Hermione and Harry with Lisa on his lap in the room of requirement; on either end of his marching stood Neville and Mandy, turning him when he reached them in an odd game of tennis.

“This was a bad idea,” he mumbled to himself in an endless loop.

“Kurt,” Lisa moaned softly, “please tell your boyfriend to stop pacing, he’s making me dizzy.”

“You people do realise that calling Ronald my boyfriend makes him as much my boyfriend as Fudge’s denial of Lord Voldemort’s return makes the Dark Lord disappear,” Kurt crossed his arms expectantly.

“Fair,” Harry nodded, “And if Fudge is having as much fun as we are then I understand why he’s doing it.”

Kurt flashed a saccharine smile, “cute.” He took Mandy’s spot but when the time came for him to turn Ron around, he stepped aside and stuck out his foot; tripping the gangly boy. Kurt leaned over Ron’s sprawled body, “I don’t know why you’re so stressed, Professor Umbridge would sooner suspect Lisa of masterminding this operation than you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ron sulked defensively as he rubbed his chin.

“That you can calm down,” Hermione rolled her eyes, “Kurt set the time during yesterday’s Muggle Studies class, a class where everyone is a member of Dumbledore’s Army.”

“Are we married to that name?” Mandy asked with a dramatic eye roll.

“I’m with Mandy on this one,” Kurt nodded, “And I know Neville agrees with his two favourite people.”

“Neville is biased by your beauty,” Ron snapped.

“You think we’re beautiful?” Mandy gushed, “that’s so sweet.”

“No, Neville thinks-” Ron buried his head in his hands, “What were you thinking of calling it? Harry’s Army?”

“My baby has an army,” Lisa crooned, kissing Harry deeply.

“You’re disgusting everyone,” Neville grumbled.

“Jealousy makes you nasty,” Harry smirked.

“We’re totally jealous of your bald girlfriend,” Neville scoffed.

“I’m not bald!” Lisa snapped, “I’m just also not blond.”

“I knew it!” Kurt grinned malevolently, “I knew that colour was too perfect not to be from a bottle.”

“I lemon juiced it,” she admitted, “it’s a little redder but after the verbal bitch slap Weasley got from Malfoy on the first day I was not going to be associated with that.”

Kurt smirked, “I love being right.” He basked in it for a moment before schooling his features, “But Neville is right, this is not a public library.”

“Kurt!” Hermione, Harry and Lisa chorused in shock and reprieve.

“We all know what these two do in libraries,” Kurt smirked.

“Made Ginny cry,” Ron nodded solemnly.

“That was funny,” Hermione’s holier than thou persona crumbled amidst giggles, “she sobbed so violently.”

Harry shook his head, “I never gave her any indication I was interested in her.”

“Oh,” Mandy nodded, “you didn’t but we are talking about the girl who opened the Chamber of Secrets over this exact crush.”

There was a scandalised silence before Neville leaned close and hissed in her ear, “I told you that in confidence.”

“Everyone knows she did it,” Lisa snorted.

“Yes,” Hermione nodded, “but not everyone knows it was linked to her crush on Harry.”

“And her hatred of me,” Kurt clarified, “I will not be erased from this narrative.”

Ron nodded slowly, “this is true, I hope this doesn’t turn her into a Death Eater.”

“So,” Hermione spoke in cheery tone, trying to change the tone of the conversation, “Dumbledore’s Army doesn’t work for you as a name?”

“And Harry’s Army is inaccurate and a misrepresentation of the club,” Kurt shook his head, “it was Hermione’s idea, and therefor it is technically her army.”

“And I am indifferent to the name we have,” Hermione smiled shyly, “if it is my army then I get to name it, then I say we stick with the current name.”

“Nobody said it was your army,” Kurt quirked a dismissive brow, “cool your tits.”

“My tits are at the perfect temperature,” Hermione countered, she and Kurt glared at each other for a moment, “but you are right, the name isn’t very inspiring and this is our moment to change it before we marry ourselves to it.”

“Like we did with SPEW,” Kurt stopped glaring at Hermione to glare at Luna as she entered the room of requirement with the absent Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff student, “then Luna came up with a better name when it was too late to change the name.”

“We’re not changing the name,” Harry spoke calmly, “we’ve kind of married ourselves to this name already, it’ll make people think we don’t know what we’re doing if we change the name this deep into the operation.”

“Fine,” Kurt crossed his arms, “I can’t wait to see how that plays out when we get caught.”

“Who says we’re getting caught?” Ron furrowed his brow.”

“We all know it’s going to happen,” Neville snorted, “with our luck, it’s only a matter of taking bets as to when.”


	10. Chapter 10

Kurt flourished his ebony wand with a start, “You remember the four spells we’re practicing today?”

“I remember,” the other boy nodded his head as he spoke.

Kurt’s nerves shook his body as he bowed to the other boy, he was risking a lot by testing his homemade wand in an active duel. The wand had worked in a controlled environment but the circumstances surrounding a duel were vastly different, it was Kurt’s intention to forge a wand that might act as a stand in for his current wand should the need arise.

Kurt didn’t trust his wand, its origins now known to him. Harpo the Foul was as brilliant as he was Evil, it made Kurt uncomfortable to think that something crafted by someone of that nature had chosen him. Kurt did not believe that the practice of dark arts made one a dark wizard- he practiced the dark arts regularly with no ill intention. Harpo the Foul had earned his reputation through sheer brutality; he didn’t do it for political reasons like Grindewald or Lord Voldemort had, he did it because his heart was dark.

Kurt had also meant to forge his own wand since he finished reading Fat’s book on the matter; he was probably using his insecurities as an excuse to add another project to his already full load. When Charlie had sent him the petrified dragon heartstring, he had taken it as a sign to follow that dream- ignoring that he now owed Charlie one.

As an amateur crafter of wands, it took him a few tries to get to a point where the wand didn’t explode in his hands but through trial and error, he had produced a kneazle whisker wand that was flaccid at best. Kurt knew kneazle whiskers to be an inferior wand material, and supposed that half-kneazle would not serve better, but he had wanted to start small. He had moved on from Crookshanks to Bomballerina, the result was better but the wand tended to veer more to the left.

Kurt had consulted his manual for wand forging, as he’d come to think of it, and learned that he’d been forging right-handed wands and was over compensating for the off-centre casting; in Hermione’s hands the wand had veered a little less to the left but she had judged it as flimsy and poor quality. Kurt had dedicated more time to kneazle whisker wands till he felt that he had perfected the art.

Harry could scarce tell the difference between the kneazle whisker and his phoenix tail feather wand aside from a persistent cramp in his right arm, much like the one Kurt had after pretending to be Harry during the third challenge of the Triwizard Tournament. Kurt had thought it was because of Pettigrew slicing open his forearm but had since realised that it was Harry’s wand, rejecting him as its master.

“Are you ready?” Kurt quirked a challenging brow, letting a little sultriness enter his tone.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” the boy spoke in a too cautious tone.

“Gregory,” Kurt shook his head, “I’m a world champion dualist.” Kurt omitted to mention that he had faced the Dark Lord and lived to tell the tale with little more than Harry’s skill set, “I think I’ll be fine.”

“But I’m-” the boy’s voice caught in his throat.

“You’re what?” Kurt quirked a curious brow, “you’re smarter? more powerful? I doubt that.” Kurt pursed his lips, “You were going to tell me that you’re a pureblood.”

“I’m trying to be more tolerant,” the boy screwed up his face in discomfort, “I mean accepting, tolerant means there’s something to overlook or whatever.”

“Aculeus,” Kurt slashed his wand with a flash of purple light, “Try harder”

“I wasn’t ready for that,” the large boy complained as the curse stung him.

“We’ve completed the formalities of a duel,” Kurt spoke as he effortlessly blocked the boy’s respondent hex, “the dual has officially begun.”

“This isn’t a fair fight, you know.”

“How so?” Kurt smirked.

“I’m obviously going to win because my wand isn’t homemade,” the boy flashed a smirk that Kurt couldn’t help mirroring.

“Then prove it,” Kurt saw his opportunity and prepared himself for the finish, “because I seem to be having little trouble deflecting and avoiding your spells.”

“If I defeat you, can I get a kiss?” the boy blushed slightly, “like a real kiss.”

Kurt scoffed, “I generally don’t trade in intimacy but sure.” Gregory grinned and Kurt shrugged, “Stupify.”

Gregory was knocked back across the room and Kurt was the clear victor. The boy stumbled to his feet and towered over Kurt, “Did I just get hustled?”

“I didn’t have anything to gain from beating you,” Kurt pointed out, “So I’d say no.”

Kurt strode across the room and started furiously noting the wand’s behaviour during their practice session, packing his belongings when he was done.

“Where are you off to?” The large hulking boy tried to casually lean up against the wall beside Kurt, flexing his biceps.”

“The forbidden forest,” Kurt smiled politely, “I have some work to do in there.”

The boy nodded, crossing his arms and flexing his pectoral and deltoids as he did so, “the old brush off, playing hard to get.”

“I don’t play at anything,” Kurt smirked, swinging his Fendi over his shoulder, “I am hard to get.”

“You’re telling me,” Gregory made a point of flexing his biceps as he picked up his bag.

“Please stop flexing,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “We get it, you have inhumanly great muscles.”

“Feels good to be appreciated,” the boy wagged his brow suggestively, “Want to make out? I’ll let you have a feel.”

Kurt had to stop himself from reaching out, “I told you, I have to go into the forbidden forest.”

“Yes,” the hulking boy nodded dejectedly, then a light came on in his mind, “If I come with you, can we make out then?”

“There’s a smart boy,” Kurt smirked, “but no promises.”

“I’m totally going to feel Kurt Hummel’s butt.”

“I beg your pardon?” Kurt stopped mid corridor to quirk a chastising brow at the boy.

“Nothing,” he shook his head, “just thinking out loud.”

Kurt carried on his way out of the castle with a nonchalant shrug, “pity, I could have sworn I heard you objectifying my body.”

The boy’s jaw went slack and he bumped into Kurt, who had come to a dead stop at the tree-line near Hagrid’s hut. Kurt took deep steadying breaths as the larger boy gaped at him in astonishment, “Stop staring.”

“Sorry,” the boy mumbled but didn’t turn away or stop staring.

“I can’t do it if you’re watching,” Kurt blushed at his sloppy wording.

The boy turned away from him, “Happy?”

“Yes,” Kurt shut his eyes, his voice was lower than a whisper when he spoke, “You are a world champion dualist, you’re top of your year, you are strong. There is nothing to fear in there, all things are possible through academia.” Kurt nodded to himself, barely believing his own words, he turned back to Gregory, who was still facing the other way, “come along then.”

“You were not bluffing,” Gregory looked around the dense thicket of trees as he walked and talked- making Kurt feel bad for once implying that he was incapable of multitasking. The larger boy slipped in beside Kurt, entering his personal space, “you really were coming to the forbidden forest.”

“I’m not known for my bluffing,” Kurt shook his head.

“This is true,” Gregory nodded, “I’m not known for being very talkative but here we are,” the boy shrugged. He swatted a spider web out of Kurt’s path, “Before…”

The ellipses was audible but the larger boy waited for Kurt to prompt him to continue, “Yes.”

“What was that?” The boy tilted his head, “because it sounded like you were hyping yourself up, are you afraid?”

“There are many things in this forest that can kill you,” Kurt explained, “being afraid is the smart reaction.”

“But you’re amazing, nothing can touch you,” the boy held a branch aside so that Kurt wouldn’t have to duck, “besides, I wouldn’t let anything hurt you; not if I could help it.” Kurt could hear how loaded the statement was, “Regardless of what…”

This time the ellipses was not a prompt for Kurt’s permission, it was implicit to whatever might or might not be between them; Gregory was promising to do what he could to make sure that Kurt made it through whatever was coming. Kurt smiled shyly, it was in moments like these and when he discussed a Charms’ test with Tracey Davis that he was reminded why he changed his approach to the Slytherins, “I know Gregory, and it means a lot to me.”

They walked a little further and Kurt held up a hand to halt their steps, he had found what he was looking for, “Two things; firstly, the reciprocal; second, no matter how much what I’m about to do startles you, remain absolutely silent and still.”

Gregory nodded silently and stood at attention, like a soldier; Kurt noted that he had the look, with his curls gone and his hair buzzed short, broad facial features and his stocky build. Kurt’s eyes traced the stern features for a moment; heavy brow, blunted jaw, a large straight nose; a face held together by deep brown eyes and plump, pink lips that saved the boy from being ugly. Kurt suspected that the boy might have been handsome if he were softer, if his features were moulded with happiness in them.

Kurt flourished his wand and with his voice so soft, it was barely audible to his own ears, “petrificus totalus.”

The large achromantula’s body tensed as if bindings had been wrapped around it’s body. Kurt gestured for Gregory to remain silent as he moved closer to the motionless creature; he produced a glass vial and moved toward the large spider’s pincers, milking them for venom and trying his hardest not to squeal like a child.

Once that was done he moved to stand beside the spider, “this might hurt some now and there might be slight discomfort for a few days.” Kurt ripped the achromantula’s leg off, second from the back on the right. Gregory gasped, earning himself a reproachful glare from Kurt, “if not, consult your doctor.”

Kurt turned on his heels and gestured for Gregory to remain silent until they were back at the tree line; the taller boy gaped at Kurt, who had the spider’s large leg slung over his shoulder, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything nearly that cool but won’t that spider die without it’s leg?”

“It’ll grow back,” Kurt smirked, “that achromantula will be back to eating unicorns whole in less than a week.”

“What do you need its leg for,” Gregory quirked a curious brow, “I know the venom is like really rare and expensive but the leg?”

“I’m having a roast later,” Kurt smirked as Gregory’s face contorted in disgust, “I kid, it’s for one of my many project’s.”

Gregory nodded to himself for a moment, “that was the hottest thing ever, no contest.”

“Don’t say that,” Kurt shook his head, stepping into the larger boy’s personal space, “you haven’t seen half of what I can do.”

“What can you do?” the boy tripped over his words.

Kurt placed his hands on the taller boy’s shoulders and pulled him down as he reached up on his tippy-toes to whisper in his ear, “an innumerable number of things, I’m amazing.”

Kurt directed the taller boy’s head such that their lips met, he hooked his leg around Gregory’s own to brace himself; the boy too surprised to hold Kurt in place but not failing to passionately kiss him back.

Then Gregory’s hand instinctually grasped for Kurt’s rear and pulled Kurt’s lithe form tighter against his stocky, muscled one, the tips of Kurt’s toes suspended above the grass as it danced in the late autumn breeze. In that moment as their bodies were grinding up against each other there was nothing but them in each other’s arms, Kurt ran his hands over the stubble that covered the other boy’s head as he kissed him deeply.

It was not like kissing Cedric; Kurt had loved Cedric, and Cedric Kurt. This wasn’t love, this was worship. The way Gregory’s large hands moved over Kurt’s body, the hunger of his kisses, the pained moans; the boy was having his moment with his divine.

~0~

“I’m an awful person,” Kurt groaned as he dropped into the seat beside Hermione.

“You’re going to have to be more specific,” Hermione didn’t look up from her book, too enthralled in the contents and tasked with eating as she read.

“Cute,” Kurt pursed his lips, “What is the number one rule I taught you?”

“Well,” Hermione seemed to give the idea some thought, then shook her head, “everything is life and death to you; either a rule is the truth of life or it means absolutely nothing.” She lifted a forkful of scrambled eggs to her mouth, missing and spilling on her jumper, “so I say again, be more specific.”

“Why did I tell you not to date Anthony?”

Hermione furrowed her brow, “If memory serves you made me date Anthony, you were perhaps the only reason I noticed him.” Hermione turned to face him with her arms crossed, “Come to think of it, were we just pawns so you and Terry could go on a date?”

“Not on my end,” Kurt shook his head, “I can’t speak for Terry.”

“I’m watching you Hummel,” she pointed her index and middle finger from her eyes to his as she glared at him.

“That doesn’t frighten me,” Kurt shook his head.

“I saw it in an action movie my dad made me watch,” she shrugged, “it was worth the try.”

“Don’t ever do it again.” Kurt shuddered, “Where was I?”

“Right,” she nodded, “you were misremembering your own advice.”

“I was not misremembering,” Kurt shook his head as he pontificated, “you were mishearing me.”

Hermione quirked a curious brow, “How so?”

“I wasn’t talking about the asshole Anthony, who isn’t in the top of his year or a prefect,” Kurt shook his head, “I’m talking about Anthony with the biceps.”

“Oh,” Hermione nodded her head in understanding, “I see.”

“So,” Kurt pursed his lips expectantly, “what did I say?”

“Don’t engage the ones who show interest unless you’re ready to deal with the interest,” Hermione recited the rule verbatim. Suddenly her eyes grew wide and her jaw hung open, “What have you done?”

“Promise you won’t shout?”

“When have I been known to shout?” Hermione grinned innocently but Kurt knew her too well, “Other than at Harry, Neville, Luna and the Weasleys.”

“A lot more frequently than you’d like to think,” Kurt scoffed.

“Just tell me,” Hermione snapped.

“I engaged with my desire of suitors,” Kurt spoke softly.

Hermione gasped, “You didn’t.”

“I did,” Kurt twiddled his thumbs, “It’s not my fault.”

“If your actions aren’t your responsibility,” Hermione spoke slowly like a disappointed parent, “then whose are they?”

“That doesn’t matter,” Kurt crossed his arms like a child throwing a tantrum, “all you need to know is that this person’s actions drove me to act in manner that I normally wouldn’t.”

“Give me a breakdown of what you’ve done,” Hermione let out a defeated sigh; shutting her book and pushing away her breakfast, “I’ll see if we can fix it.”

“I made out with Gregory Goyle,” Kurt hung his head, “and it was amazing, he worshipped my body and held me in those arms, and I let it happen…” Kurt shook his head, “I made it happen, and it was everything I never knew I wanted.”

“That explain why he looks like he’s eating rainbows, I didn’t think he was capable of actual joy but there he is with a shit eating grin curtesy of you.” Hermione nodded, trying to remain neutral in her expression but failing to assure Kurt she wasn’t disappointed to the nth degree, “Tell him you’re not ready for a relationship, you’re just testing the waters.”

“There’s more,” Kurt straightened his back to face Hermione’s scrutiny, “and you need to listen to reason.”

“You didn’t blow him, did you?”

“That’s not where I’m going with this,” Kurt shook his head.

“We were at him worshipping your body,” Hermione shrugged, “excuse me for making the logical leaps and bounds.”

“Just listen for a moment.” Kurt took a deep steadying breath and worried about how often he found himself needing to do so these days. When he spoke, his voice was filled with confidence, “I have a date with Noah Puckerman, during next weekends Hogsmead visit. I asked him if he wanted to see me and he said wild horses couldn’t keep him away.”

“That’s okay,” Hermione’s voice was higher.

“I confronted a naked Terry Boot in the prefects’ shower,” Kurt smirked, growing impressed with his own bravado, “asked him if he was interested in me or if he was just wasting both of our time.”

“And?” the urgency was evident in Hermione’s voice.

“He’s uncircumcised,” Kurt shrugged.

“Not that,” Hermione blushed as if she was inexperienced, “what was his answer?”

“He said he’d think about it,” Kurt shrugged dismissively, “I just came from there.”

“So you’re telling me that you are currently in the process of destroying your life?” Hermione took a deep steadying breath, then she held out her hand, “I’m intervening, give it to me.”

“Give what to you?” Kurt quirked a curious brow.

“The letters to your other suitors,” Hermione demanded.

“Hermione, I’m not here so you can help me,” Kurt Shook his head, “stop me, or save me from myself; I know what I’m doing.”

“I know you’re in control of the situation,” Hermione agreed, “but give me the remaining letters anyway.”

“Then it looks like I’m playing favourites,” Kurt pouted.

“The rest of these… of these faceless wannabes don’t stand a chance,” Hermione shook her head, “ever hear of a summer fling?”

“You’re going to hurt their feelings,” Kurt handed over the stack of personalised stationary.

Hermione tapped the stack with her wand and the letters burned, “now give me Hipster Weasley’s letter.”

“He is not in my desire of suitors,” Kurt furrowed his brow.

“I know,” Hermione smirked as she dug through the pockets of his robes, she held up a single envelope, “this is not suitor stationary, I just don’t want you going anywhere near the owlery.” She carried on pilfering his pockets, “Which is why I’m also taking your letters to Druella and Jadis.”

“Did you guys ever notice that Kurt’s younger siblings’ names are oddly similar to those of his grandmothers?” Luna spoke, startling them with her sudden appearance.

“How so?” Hermione quirked a curious brow.

“Harley Drew, Druella. Velma Jade, Jadis” she placed emphasis on the ‘Drew’, doing the same with the ‘Jade’.

“I never really noticed,” Kurt shrugged, “but then again, it was Finn who named Velma so there’s nothing suspicious there. Probably just a coincidence.”

“Because our lives are just chucked full of those,” Hermione rolled her eyes, Kurt suspected it was at his naiveite and dismissal of the matter.

Kurt was focusing his attention on Voldemort; figuring out how the Dark Lord was still alive and why he seemed to defy death. That key to his defeat, almost as important to Kurt as insuring that the innocent were able to defend themselves in the uncertain times that would soon be upon them.

Junior students weren’t able to be members of Dumbledore’s army, they didn’t have the freedom that seniors enjoyed, and Kurt could only empart knowledge through Denis; using the second year to parlay information through grass routes that Professor Umbridge was ambivalent to. He was stricter with junior student, giving out more detentions; making them copy out and practice defensive spells during his detentions with the help of Fred and George, who were a consistent presence in his and Hermione’s detentions. He wanted to be sure that as many of the students as possible were exposed to what he deemed to be the Defence Against the Dark Arts tool kit.

Kurt- unlike his friends- wasn’t preoccupied by the present, he had cast his eye into the future and was trying to figure out how the past might help him change their destiny. Kurt had begun to sever the link between Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort when he had taken the other boy’s place during the third task of the Triwizard Tournament, Voldemort had Kurt’s blood coursing through his veins instead of Harry’s. Whatever reason the Dark Lord had for his obsession with Harry, Kurt was willing to bet that his intervention had woven him into the relationship.

He needed to know why Lord Voldemort had gone to Grodrick’s Hollow find the Potter’s that night, the Chinese Wall between him and Professor Dumbledore was still in place which meant that he would have to come by that knowledge some other way; that knowledge may be pertinent to understanding how to defeat the Dark Lord. The next thing on his list would be discovering why the killing curse didn’t kill Harry, Kurt suspected that this was related to why Harry’s scar had bit him when he tried to put antiseptic on it.

Kurt could only ready himself and those around him as best he could for what later ahead. They had to make it through this before it was time for his muggle-born siblings to come into their magic, this war couldn’t affect them the way it had him.

“Kurt,” Luna furrowed her brow in confusion as she took off her lion hat that she wore in support of Gryffindor. The way she was gazing at him meant that his worry were visible, “are you alright?”

“Peachy,” Kurt smiled broadly, brightening the room and hoping beyond hope that his friends would buy his false demeanour, “just lost in thought.”

“What were you thinking so hard about?” Hermione furrowed her brow, “You completely missed me telling Luna about your exploding letter to the Ministry.”

“Ah yes,” Kurt nodded, “it was meant to shoot out flyers about elvish liberation.”

“It made the front page of the prophet,” Hermione grinned, “They mention SPEW by name, and expand on how we were banned here at Hogwarts.” She shoved the paper in his face, her excitement blinding her, “They haven’t gotten to the point where they grasp that the enslavement of sentient beings is wrong, but it is a huge step forward to have our cause on the front page.”

“Hermione,” Luna gaped at her as if she were barking instead of speaking, “Kurt is a hundred miles away, most of what you’re saying is lost on him.” She then turned to Kurt, “and as for you, tell us what’s eating at you or we’ll beat it out of you.”

Kurt’s shoulders tensed, “I don’t think we’re doing enough. We’re no closer to understanding the relationship between Harry and Lord Voldemort, the DA is still on level one of our teaching pyramid.”

“You might not realise this but your work is making waves,” Luna smiled broadly, “there isn’t a Ravenclaw who doesn’t have a copy of your OWL manual, even the first years are trying their hand at understanding it. Madam Pomphry isn’t as impressed as Professor Flitwick at their failures.”

“Thanks to Fred and George, almost every Junior has had at least one detention,” Hermione grinned, “their sale of contraband makes it easy to pass out misdemeanour detentions without ruining their school record.”

“But that’s not nearly enough for what’s coming,” Kurt shook his head, his stomach turning at the sight of his breakfast, “we need to convince everyone that he’s actually back, we have no idea how we’re going to defeat him, and Professor Umbridge’s presence makes finding out harder.”

“Decreeing that only she could permit students into the controlled areas of the castle was a hard blow, we’re locked out of the Hall of Records and the Restricted Section of the Library.” Hermione seemed to notice the scrambled egg on her jumper and was now wiping furiously at the greasy stain, “There’s only so much we can learn from the resources we have.”

“We’re doing as much as we can at this point,” Luna pointed out, “It’s a pity that the Order of the Pheonix isn’t keeping us up to date on the goings on.” Luna’s voice had a tone he’d never heard or imagined in it, anger. She aggressively fluffed the mane on her hat, “it’s almost as if they want us to get hurt, like they want Voldemort to get to one of us so they can proudly declare that they told the world so.”

“I don’t think that the Order would do such a thing,” Hermione shook her head, assuring only herself, “I’m sure of it.”

“You’re sure of it because you believe the best of people,” Kurt shook his head, “the Order is probably waiting for Voldemort to attack the school and make a big reveal, at our expense.”

“What-”

“That’s what happened when Sirius Black was at large,” Kurt point out, “Professor Dumbledore didn’t take any action, he just watched as things unfolded.” Kurt shrugged, pushing away his breakfast, “he also failed to shut down the school during the Chamber of Secrets debacle. It’s not too farfetched to believe that a secret society led by a man who enjoys watching things unfold, and is populated with people who are loyal to him -almost to a fault- would choose inaction as a strategy.”

Kurt took a sip of his coffee, it was cold at this point but he didn’t have the energy to heat it. Hermione moved to speak in defence of the Order of the Phoenix, Kurt shook his head, “I’m going back to bed.”

“But today is Ron’s first match,” Hermione exclaimed in horror.

“Against Slytherin,” Kurt flourished his house scarf, “I’ll wish him luck or whatever but I still hope your team loses.”

“But you’ve never missed a match before,” Hermione probed further, “what do those optics say?”

“That I don’t care about Quidditch, I can see Ron playing at the Hufflepuff game! Right now I want to sleep and not be around people.” Kurt shrugged dejectedly, “I used to attend those stupid matches to be with Cedric, or to cheer on Cedric and my brother.” Kurt let out a defeated sigh, “Cedric is dead.”

~0~

Kurt stood in the High Inquisitor’s offisor’s with his arms crossed in frustration, he had been summoned by Professor Umbridge to stand vigil as she issued punishment to Harry, Fred and George.

The office was vastly different from when Professor’s Lupin and Moody had occupied it, they had elected to decorate with a plethora of magical instruments for defending one’s self from the Dark Arts. Her motif was more a kin to that of Professor Lockhart’s, though her colour of choices was pink in place of Professor Lockhart’s lilac. Professor Umbridge was also lacking in Professor Lockhart’s vanity, and had replaced his many portraits of himself with a collection of plates with cats on them.

“In my entire teaching career I have never witnessed such vagrant behaviour,” Professor Umbridge ejaculated.

“You haven’t even been teaching for six months,” Kurt furrowed his brow, his frustration at being called out from his peaceful pseudo silence, “give it time, we once had a student using Slytherin’s monster to petrify students.”

Kurt didn’t need to look over at the accused to know that his slight at Ginny Weasley had not been received, it was Professor McGonagall who spoke, “I agree with Mr Hummel, fighting is but a misdemeanour offence. A week’s detention should be sufficient to discourage this behaviour from recurrung.”

“As you should know Minerva,” Professor Umbridge smirked, speaking Professor McGonagall’s first name as if it were a slight, “the power to pass down punishment comes down to the High Inquisitor. That’s word from Cornilius himself.” She turned around the picture of the Minister for Magic on her desk so that the man was looking at them, “And given their prior records, this punishment needs to be pruned.”

“If you have the power to punish them and are going to do so with no input from either Professor McGonagall or myself, then why are we here?”

“I will address you in due course, Mr Hummel.” Her tone had an edge Kurt had come to recognise, prejudice. She rose from her seat and walked around the desk to stand beside her picture of the Minister for Magic, as if he were actually there, “given your previous infractions, I fear that your punishment needs to be more severe than detention. You, yourself Mr Hummel, have given them an innumerable quantity of detentions this week alone.”

“Detentions for uniform infractions aren’t considered substantive,” Kurt snapped defensively, “they are a mere slap on the wrist.”

“Maybe under previous management,” Professor Umbridge’s smile grew malevolent, “but the Minister and myself are hoping to raise Hogwarts to her former glory.”

“What former glory?” Kurt scoffed under his breath, “Rowena herself saw her vision perverted by the time she chose to leave the school.”

“What was that Mr Hummel?”

“Nothing Professor,” Kurt smiled obsequently, “you were passing down punishment.”

“Yes, I believe that the confiscation of your broomsticks in addition to a lifetime ban from intramural Quidditch should serve well.”

“The confiscation of private property is only permitted if said property is considered contraband under the school code of conduct,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “you can’t confiscate their brooms unless you make the possession of brooms against the school rules. That would mean confiscating all broomsticks and, by extension, outlawing quidditch.”

“The ban stands,” Professor Umbridge glared at Kurt, “You three are banned from playing quidditch for the remainder of your scholastic careers. You’re dismissed,” she clasped her hands in front of herself, “not you Mr Hummel.”

Kurt stood in place as the room cleared, “How can I help you Professor Umbridge?”

“Madam High Inquisitor,” she smiled, “please, take a seat.”

Kurt made the stride to the guest’s chair and made himself comfortable, “How may I help you Madam High Inquisitor?”

“You are the Slytherin House Prefect,” Professor Umbridge smiled at him, “is that correct?”

“Indeed it is,” Kurt nodded, “that’s why I have a prefect’s badge.”

“Hummel, I’m not familiar with that name,” she busied herself with making tea as she spoke, “is it foreign?”

“Indeed, it is,” Kurt nodded, “my lineage goes back centuries in Alsace-Lorraine.”

“Ah,” her smile grew, she was pleased by his response, “And what brings you to Hogwarts?”

“My father came to England to study and he decided to stay when he met my mother.”

“What does your father do?” she nodded to herself, “Or is he a society man.”

“He’s a mechanic,” Kurt spoke with a nonchalance that juxtaposed Professor Umbridge’s formal line of questioning.

“Mechanic,” she narrowed her eyes, “I’m not familiar with the term.”

“He fixes cars,” Kurt explained, “restores classical cars primarily.”

Professor Umbridge was shocked, “For muggles?”

“Primarily, yes,” Kurt shrugged, “but I doubt he’d turn away anyone else who needed their car tended to.”

“And your mother?” Professor Umbridge looked like she was smelling something she could pin down, as if unsure whether the cheese she had in her hand had a pungent aroma or was simply spoiled. She sipped at her tea before schooling her features, “what of her?”

“She’s dead.”

“What was her name?” Professor Umbridge tilted her head as if she could endear him to volunteer information.

“Christine Brown.”

“Christine Brown? I’m not familiar with the Browns, where are they from.”

“Sheffield.”

“Sheffield, well that’s here in Great Britain.”

“Correct.”

“Which of the Sacred Twenty-Eight do they descend from?”

“None.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“My mother’s family are muggles.”

“Muggles?” she kept her features schooled but the sharpness in her voice made evident her surprise, “Your father married a muggle?”

“My father is a muggle,” Kurt narrowed his gaze, “I’m muggle-born.”

“But you’re in Slytherin.”

“I don’t see the correlation.”

“And you’re the house prefect,” Professor Umbridge shook her head, “do you mean to tell me that Professor Snape selected you over students of…”

“More distinguished birth?” Kurt completed her statement for her, “Yes, I was more deserving. I’m top of the Slytherin group and my year scholastically, I know the school rule book backwards and forwards, and I almost single-handedly saved the school from the Chamber of Secrets.”

“I see,” she nodded, “I do however feel like you are unfit for the responsibility, I have noticed that you rarely have meal time duty and you were absent from today’s quidditch match.”

“I’m going to stop you right there,” Kurt held up a silencing finger and turned the picture of Minister Fudge back toward Professor Umbridge, “Firstly, Tracey and I have co-ordinated our duties such that she covers meal times and I do detentions. Secondly, attendance of quidditch matches is not compulsory and I needed to catch up on some sleep, which is my right.” Kurt got to his feet and towered over the seated woman, “Finally, the power to appoint prefects lies in the hands of each house’s respective Head of House.”

“Mister Hummel-”

“You can take the matter up with Professor Snape,” Kurt’s words were curt, “I’ll take my leave.”

“Mister Hummel,” Professor Umbridge called after him as he sashayed away, “I represent the Minister for Magic. As such, to disrespect me is to disrespect Minister Fudge.”

Kurt stopped halfway down the length of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom and turned to face the woman who was perched atop the landing outside her office, glaring at him, “Worry not, the Minister well aware how little respect I have for him.”

With that said, he turned on his heels and made for the exit. He found Harry Potter waiting for him in the hallway, “You weren’t at today’s match.”

“I was catching up on some sleep,” Kurt shrugged nonchalantly, beginning to walk toward the Slytherin Dungeon.

“I see,” Harry gave a curt nod.

“I feel like you have something you would like to say,” Kurt tilted his head expectantly, “please do share with the audience.”

“It was Ron’s first match as keeper,” Harry left the statement hanging.

“I was aware.”

Harry stood with his back straighter, “your absence was noted.”

“My presence would not have been,” Kurt countered.

“Were you aware of ‘Weasley is Our King’?”

“Yes,” Kurt nodded, “I thought the jest to be congruent with the intramural rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor.”

“You’re okay with that kind of behaviour?”

“I honestly don’t care,” Kurt shook his head, “Ron’s a big boy, I’m sure he can handle a little teasing.” Kurt stopped and turned to face Harry final landing of the stairwell, “it wasn’t even well thought out, ‘he was born in a rubbish bin’? Pansy could do a lot worse.”

Kurt started walking down the hallway, but Harry persistently called after him, “If what you had to do had anything to do with Voldemort then you have to tell me!” Harry grabbed Kurt’s elbow but he shrugged the other boy off, “Kurt-”

“I was sleeping,” Kurt snapped, “I just wanted to catch up on some sleep because I haven’t been able to get a decent night’s rest all term. Between my subject load, prepping for OWLs and O-Level exams, my prefect dutie, the DA and SPEW. Figuring out spell that no living person knows about, which was intentionally erased from history, because it might be the key to the defeat of the Dark Lord; all while keeping up the pretence that everything is as it should be.”

Kurt took a deep breath, “I haven’t exactly had much time to sleep, so excuse me if I decided to use a time when I knew exactly where everyone was and that they were safe to catch up on my sleep.”

“I just-”

“You just what Harry?” Kurt snapped, “Are you going to take the opportunity to criticize my mourning? Marrietta Edgecomb didn’t hold back in pointing out that my feet run out of ground when Cedric died.”

“I just wanted you to know that you mean a lot to Ron,” Harry’s words were softly spoken and carefully chosen, “I know he might not always know how to show it.”

“I know that, and I don’t hold that against him,” Kurt gave a weak smile, “but sometimes I have to look out for number one, that was what I did today.” Kurt’s voice was void of any emotion, “because what is the point of fighting Voldemort if I kill myself in the process? I don’t stand to gain anything if I die from exhaustion.”

“Personal gain,” Harry spoke the words with venom that would have stung another, “that’s why you’re doing this?”

“I know all of the magic that we cover in the DA,” Kurt shrugged, “I am only doing this for the people I love, I don’t want to have to lose anyone again.”

“What about stopping Voldemort?” Harry gaped at him, “don’t care about that?”

“I care about all forms of prejudice,” Kurt agreed, “but I could just as easily pack up my family and move to the other end of the planet, seek exile in another land.”

“And you’d be able to live with that?”

Kurt shrugged, “I’d feel sorry for those I left behind but I would be able to get past it.”

“I’ll never understand the way you can be so cold sometimes.”

“And that is why you’re wearing the colours your wearing and I these,” Kurt smiled, “that’s the main difference between Gryffindor and Slytherin; you guys want to save the world and we just want to make sure that we make it through. You’ll run toward the danger with little regard for your own safety while we calculate every move, manipulating the system to our advantage.”

“And you’re fine with that?”

“In the hands of the right person, that is a trait that does more harm than good.”

“The right person?”

“Am I not breaking myself to do in twenty-four hours, what most couldn’t master in a week?” Kurt shook his head, “You might not know this because you’re too busy brooding to open your eyes to what is going on around you but we’re in a sinking ship and I’m trying to make sure that everyone has a life jacket.”  

“I…” the boy stalled, “Will I see you at dinner?”

“No,” Kurt shook his head, “I have consultations with Seventh Year Ravenclaw girls on their NEWT prep.”

“You’re helping people prepare for NEWTs?”

“You clearly haven’t read the study guide,” Kurt threw his arms in the air, “why do I even bother?”

Kurt took off in the opposite direction but the boy called out to him, “one last thing.”

“What is it?”

“Thank you,” Harry gave small smile, “I know that a lot of people have been giving me credit for Dumbledore’s Army and nobody actually knows that you’re behind everything that makes me look anything near competent.” Harry held two thumbs up, “thanks for holding everything down.”

“Most of it is good delegating,” Kurt smiled, “but it is nice to be appreciated.”

“Would now be a bad time to ask if I can borrow your charms homework?”

“Ask your girlfriend.”

“She’s not as good at charms as you are.”

“Goodnight Harry Potter.”


	11. Chapter 11

_Duchy of Saxony, Carolingian Empire._

_24 June 979_

_08:14 PM_

Anais nursed the babe at her teat, she held him close to her with the hope that her warmth would permeate into the cold, sickly boy she had borne not more than a fortnight before. Her efforts were futile, the babe suckled but her breast failed to provide him with the nourishment he so desperately needed.

She had consulted a dozen healers and more, each had told her that he would not survive the night; that her son would be dead before the next sunrise. She held him in her arms, not wanting to miss a single moment with her ailing new born; she feared that if she turned from him for even a moment, closed her eyes for the semblance of sleep, he would die.

If the babe died, would she still be a mother? Could she use that title to call herself when she had never mothered anyone? The child had yet to open his eyes, he might die never knowing the sight of a mother, let alone his own mother. Could he hear the lullaby she hummed as she hoped beyond hope, and prayed beyond prayer that he would live to see another day? Any day. That he might open his eyes and cry as other babies do?

She felt helpless, the curse of her own ancestral mother taking from her the one thing she had wanted most. Her fore-mother was baron but proficient in the magical arts and had beckoned the Sun and Moon into baring her children. Each agreed to quicken her womb and parent her child.

To the Moon she promised to keep the whelp from the Sun. The Moon agreed to her terms and the child was named Langa, she would be so beautiful as to provoke the Sun’s jealousy. The Moon knew the Sun to be vain and had been victim to the Sun’s jealousy once before, losing part of its light and magic in the process. In an effort to protect the child, the Moon gifted Langa with a word to speak only when faced with the Sun but offered the warning that anyone else who heard the word would be struck down.

The Sun bore her second child, a son, who would be the foil to the beautiful daughter; he would not be much to look at but his power would be immense, he was told by the vain Sun to pay homage only to him and never to be seen by the Moon. To ensure that the woman and son obeyed, the Sun cursed his son to keep him hidden from the Moon. When in the presence of the Moon, the boy would lose control and succumb to a madness not known to wizardkind. The stronger Lycan and his brood grew, the weaker Langa and her lineage would grow.

The fore mother, angered by the pain the Sun and the Moon had inflicted upon Lycan, swore to treat her children as equals; teaching Lycan during the day and allowing him to play while Langa slept, doing the same with Langa in the night. But the Moon could not let Lycan rest, though spite was not in the Moon’s nature, his light was different from that of the sun and would seek Lycan wherever he hid, twisting his body such that it resembled a wolf.

Lycan would unwittingly spread his curse- that would bear his name- when he bit his partner while turned, and so it would go for the endless stretch of history. Langa would marry a man she met on a river bank one night, bare his daughters who were not as beautiful as she- free to walk in the sun. Her daughters married and had daughters, but every male child they bore was cold and frail; forsaken to die within the first cycle of the moon during his lifetime.

Anais held her dying son in her arms, knowing that if she could summon the Sun and hope to reason with him, that he might hear ailing soul and grant her deepest wish. She would convince him to hear sense, plead with him to put warmth in the boy child’s bones, and if he would not listen she would speak the word. The Deplorable Word.

~0~

Kurt dropped into the seat beside Ron and grinned broadly, “I got a great night’s sleep.”

“Good for you,” Hermione smiled, “you’re positively glowing.”

“You deserved the rest,” Harry nodded, echoing the sentiment.

“I have news,” Kurt was grinning harder than he had in the longest time, “Which do you want to hear first; the good news, the better news, the best news or the great news?”

“I’ll take the good news,” Ron spoke around a mouthful of bacon sandwich.

“I finished writing my Divination assignment and it is amazing.”

“Let’s do the best news,” Ron furrowed his brow, “I think we might have different definitions of what constitutes good news.”

“I figured out how to defeat Voldemort.”

Hermione dropped the book she was reading into her cereal and gaped at him, “How?”

“It came to me in a dream,” Kurt smirked.

“Someone had a productive night of dreaming,” Ron’s eyes bulged as he gawked at Kurt.

“I mean how do we kill Voldemort?” Hermione specified as she cleaned up the spilled milk and attempted to dry her book.

“There is a spell that instantly strikes down anyone whom it is cast upon,” Kurt explained.

“We’re familiar with the killing curse,” Hermione furrowed her brow, “I don’t think it will work.”

“That definitely won’t work if both Harry and Voldemort survived it in one way or another the last time,” Kurt shook his head, “the curse we’re looking for is a single word, not two like the Avada Kadavra.”

“What?” Ron’s confusion was growing more evident, “What’s more powerful than the killing curse? Is this what Sirius was talking about during the Order of the Phoenix meeting?”

“This curse is the most powerful magic in existence,” Kurt beamed as he spoke, “But I doubt Sirius knows anything about it, this magic is known only to women.”

“What does that mean?” Hermione furrowed her brow, “how is it known only to women?”

“I have no idea,” Kurt shrugged.

“What is it?” Harry probed.

“Not sure,” Kurt shrugged, “But I do have an inclination as to where to begin my search, that’s the better news.”

“You need to readjust your standards of what constitutes news,” Ron shook his head in derision, “Because you are seriously over selling, for news that isn’t complete.”

“Firstly,” Kurt narrowed his gaze, “Finishing my research project means that I only have to write my OWL to be rid of that wretched subject.”

“I wish I was done with my research paper,” Hermione groaned, “If I have to read one more book on tarot cards I will burst into flames.”

“That’s why I chose Tyromancy,” Kurt smirked, “It’s such an obscure art that it is mostly speculation and I never get tired of reading about cheese.”

“And you get to write off you trips to see Oma as tax deductible business trips,” Finn leaned down from nowhere and kissed Kurt on the cheek, “You are glowing.”

“I’m having a good day,” Kurt shrugged, offering his brother some of his breakfast, “How are you?”

“I’m stoked,” Finn grinned, “Hufflepuff is going to win the Quidditch Cup; Gryffindor is cancelled, their only player of note is Angelina and she can’t carry the team on her own. Goyle has got to let me win because I might decide to play the older brother, and Ravenclaw… forget about it.”

“Ginny is a fair second string seeker,” Hermione tried to defend her house’s team, “and Ron’s…”

“Let’s just say Weasley is our King,” Ron smirked.

“Still cancelled,” Kurt and Finn smirked in unison.

“Don’t discount Ravenclaw,” Padma smirked, leaning down to kiss Finn smack on the lips. She wagged a finger toward herself invitingly, “we have more than booksmarts.”

“You’re all dead to me,” Finn announced as he allowed himself to be led away.

“Can you believe them?” Ron grumbled.

Kurt watched them go and nodded, “If it were Harry and Lisa they’d be heading for the library.”

“I can hear you,” Harry gawked.

“You’re the one who let her open your fly in the library,” Kurt shrugged, “don’t be shocked when people bring it up.”

“I personally don’t think it’s an issue that we freely discuss you getting a handy in the library,” Hermione shrugged, “It’s like how Kurt was probably deflowered on the Astronomy Tower.”

“I was not deflowered on the Astronomy Tower, I want everyone to know that,” Kurt gaped at her, “You want to do this now? In front of the children.”

“We are not children,” Harry and Ron countered in unison, they glared at each other and shuddered.

“You act like children,” Hermione retorted in his defence, “And it is too late for you to try and convince us that you aren’t children.”

“I still want to hear about Kurt’s deflowering,” Harry sat up straight, puffing out his chest.

“You’re only working to prove my point,” Hermione chuckled at the boy’s false bravado, “And nobody has confirmed whether or not there was a deflowering, what we are certain of is that Kurt made out with Goyle.”

Ron’s eyes grew wide, “You snogged Goyle?”

“Oh my gosh,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “that was one time.”

“Goyle? Really?”

“His arms are amazing,” Kurt smirked salaciously, “and he’s built like a rugby player in all the right ways.”

“Amen to that,” Hermione nodded her agreement, “Those thighs, that ass!” She caught herself, “not that I think you should be making out with him.”

“He’s looking over here,” Harry groaned.

Ron turned to see behind them, “He looks like he wants to eat you.”

“I feel like he’s looking at me like he’s seen me in my underwear,” Harry fidgeted.

“Stop looking at him before he realises that you’re looking,” Kurt used his compact to look behind him, there Gregory was. Kurt smirked, “I think my day just filled up.”

Hermione stealthily flicked a glance, “he looks like he wants to be knuckles deep in you.”

“A look you’re obviously familiar with,” Kurt countered.

“Some of us are trying to eat,” Ron groaned, “The closest I’ve gotten to a girl is some fourth year making small talk in the library.”

“Which one?” Kurt quirked a curious brow.

“That one next to Luna,” Ron grinned, nodding behind them “brown hair.”

“With the side parting?” Hermione asked, her brow knitted.

“Yeah,” Ron was smug as he nodded. Kurt used his mirror to check behind himself, he wished he was sitting where Hermione was sitting- with her back to the wall, it made people watching so much easier.

“Don’t be disgusting,” Kurt snapped, “you cannot finger-bang Ming Prewett!”

“Why not?”

“Ming _Prewett_ , your mother is Molly _Prewett_.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “She’s your first cousin.”

“My mother’s brothers didn’t have kids,” Ron shook his head.

“Her birthday is on the eleventh of November,” Kurt pointed out, “your uncle died before she was born.”

“How do you know so much about her,” Harry tilted his head in curiosity, like a puppy does.

“I worked with her mother over the summer,” Both Harry and Ron’s faces remained blank, “Hau Xun, Head of the Auror Office’s Investigation Department.” Kurt tried to clarify but the lights did not come on, “Puck’s boss.”

“The lady who spoke at my trial?”

“Her,” Kurt nodded, “You also spoke to her after the third task.”

“Let’s change the subject,” Ron sulked, “I feel dirty. Where were we?”

“Criticizing Kurt’s ability to deliver news,” Hermione interjected quickly, saving Ron the trouble.

“It was my ability to discern the significance of news,” Kurt corrected, “not my delivery. I’m a talented orator, I have great oral skills.”

“Well, Cedric isn’t around to dispute that,” Harry mumbled.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I believe you were listing a defence for your less that noteworthy events and weather services,” He said, making a smooth recovery, “I believe we had found some level of appreciation for you completing your research paper.”

“Ah yes,” Kurt nodded, taking the cue to keep the conversation going, “Secondly, my charm, curse, hex, jinx or spell is a definite way of killing Lord Voldemort.”

“But you don’t know what it is,” Hermione countered.

“I do have an idea of which direction to go in, I’m sure I’ve said this already,” Kurt explained, “it’ll be very old, obscure and it will be written on a scrap of parchment.”

“What will…” Hermione shook her head, “You’re making very little sense right now. I think maybe you got too much sleep.”

“There’s no such thing as too much sleep,” Ron grumbled, “trust me, one of my roommates speaks in parseltongue in his sleep.”

Kurt pulled a book out of his bag- ignoring Ron’s complaining, “It’s a word.” He flipped though the book till he came to the page that described the idea he was attempting to translate to his friends, “read here.”

“CS Lewis?” Hermione’s face grew worried, “Kurt, this is fiction.”

“Not that extract,” Kurt shook his head, “Clive Lewis was a childhood friend to one Jadis Rowle, he even named the White Witch after her.”

“Are you telling me that she told him about magic?” Hermione shook her head, reading the passage over and over, “are you telling me that she catalysed one of the greatest fantasy epics of all time?”

“I don’t think the Rowle’s would let their kid be friends with a muggle,” Ron shook his head, “They’re one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.”

“That is true, he was a squib and that was the end of their friendship,” Kurt shook his head, “while Jadis had some influence on him, I think he came by knowledge of this spell during his lifetime and left this extract as a clue.”

“What does that have to do with your dreams?” Hermione shook her head, “what does this have to do with Rowena Ravenclaw?”

“She recalled a folktale from her childhood,” Kurt explained, “a tale of the children of the Sun and the Moon; the child of the Sun is Lycan, mutated by the moon. The child of the Moon, Langa, is given a single word that will stike down any who hear it for protection.” Kurt explained the tale more intricately, “the moon’s secret word is our ticket.”

“I’m so stupid,” Hermione smacked her hand against her forehead repeatedly, “This is _The Magician’s Nephew_!”

“I know,” Kurt nodded, “it’s my book.”

“It’s a prequel,” Hermione explained, “after it’s events the White Witch is defeated thanks to four kids, two females and two males.”

“The founders,” Kurt gasped, “one of them even flirts with the fringe of darkness. The dichotomy of the sun and the moon is echoed by the White Witch and Aslan! Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!”

“That means that the first five books have extracts that make a map to wherever Anais Haddad-Schmidt learned the Deplorable Word,” Hermione squealed excitedly, “we just need to decrypt them to find it.”

“Should we be looking for a spell known as the Deplorable Word?” Harry furrowed brow, “I think somethings are best left unfound, don’t you think there’s a reason that spell was lost to time.

“Harry,” Kurt reached out for the boy’s hand but he pulled it away, “Voldemort is going to hurt people, we need to stop him.”

“This doesn’t feel right,” Harry shook his head, “I don’t think this is right.”

“It’s effective,” Kurt withdrew his hand, “it’ll save so many people so much pain.” Kurt crossed his arms and felt the ice in his chest grow, “or are you going wait until it is too late? How many more people need to die before you’re ready to stop playing fair and start playing to win?”

“What happened to Cedric-”

“I loved Cedric Diggory but he is not my world,” Kurt smirked malevolently, “I have a muggle father, Carole, three muggleborn siblings and myself to look out for; and that’s just counting the residents of number thirteen Grimmauld Place.”

Kurt uncrossed his arms, leaned forward and narrowed his gaze, “I don’t know about you but I haven’t been waiting for the first battle of this war to start trying to end it, I’ve been working hard since before you even knew we were at war.”

Kurt flashed his forearm, where there should have been a scar to map out where Peter Pettigrew had sliced it open that spring night. A reminder none the less that Kurt had taken Harry’s place as the chosen one once, a threat that he might do so again in the future.

“Now boys,” Hermione glared at each of them, “let’s play nice.”

“I’m going to explore this further,” Kurt spoke in a calm and measured tone, “next weekend I’ve accepted an invitation to _Le Château d’Hiver de la Famille Noire_.”

“You’re going to talk to Jadis?” Harry’s tone was a little less measured, more challenging- as if to say ‘despite my express wishes that you don’t’.

“Kurt had one more piece of news,” Ron interjected as Kurt and Harry were glaring at each other, “let’s hear it then.”

“Hagrid’s back.”

~0~

“Kurt,” Hermione quirked a curious brow as she stood before Dumbledore’s Army, she leaned in to whisper, “I didn’t think you were coming, considering how things have been between you and Harry this week.”

“Nonsense,” Kurt shook his head, waving the idea away for the drivel that it was, “without me this group would dissolve into a puddle of emotional, ill prepared wimps.” Kurt produced a bag as the Room of Requirement reconfigured itself to his specifications, changing to resemble a gladiator’s arena.

He went around the room and handed out small stones, giving one to each member at random, “Today we’re putting what we’ve learned into practice! If you have Topaz, you’re a Death Eater. If you have Amethyst, you’re the resistance.” Kurt looked around the room with his eyes storm grey in place of their usual silver, “if your stone changes colour during the exercise, that means you’ve betrayed your cause.”

There was a resounding gasp that echoed through the group, and Kurt knew that this would happen. He looked Harry in the eyes and held out his hand for the boy to take the last amethyst but as soon as the boy touched it, the stone turned from violet to orange, “there is nobody who is exempt, don’t trust anyone implicitly. The fact that I’m your brother, best friend or the sweetest person you’ve ever met, doesn’t mean I won’t betray you.”

Kurt broke the stone they were holing in half, Harry’s half turned violet once more and the boy gaped at Kurt whose stone remained topaz. A fourth year Hufflepuff student voiced his concern, “That’s not fair, the death eaters have you, Padma Petil and Hermione Granger! We’re mostly juniors.”

“Thanks for that,” Ron grumbled, “You’re just chucked full of team spirit, aren’t you?”

“He’s only being logical,” Luna countered, in her classmates defence, “the odds are against us, but that makes the exercise more realistic; most Death Eaters will be older and better learned in the magical arts.”

“Which is why previous lessons haven’t been in just spell casting,” Hermione explained, “we’ve made style a key element of our curriculum for this exact reason; use your agility, apparating and whatever else you have in your arsenal to ensure that you stay alive- beating your opponent is secondary; live to fight another day.”

Kurt, Finn, Harry, Hermione, Lisa, Mandy, Neville and Padma made their way through the group; they tapped everyone’s robe with their wand as they went, reciting a whispered incantation that Kurt had developed with the help of Tracey Davis. The enchantment imbued their robes with the ability to change colour based on whether the wearer was still alive in the exercise, offer some protection from the effects of their spells, and keep record of how many were dead on each team, the level of spell casting and effectiveness of any single spell on each robe.

The pair had developed it as an extra credit assignment for Charms, Professor Flitwick had been thrilled beyond all reason and called the enchantment a revolution in the academic practice of spell creation- granting users the ability to test their spells on non-living creatures but receive the same feedback they would from a living subject. Their charms Professor had gone so far as to show their work to Professor McGonagall; she’d instantly recognized Tracey’s transfiguration at work, awarded them each extra credit in Transfiguration and fifty points to Slytherin.

Kurt had this exercise in mind when he planted the idea in Tracey’s mind, using her as a resource to solve an issue he didn’t have the time to personally address. She had taken to the issue like a fish to water, and had a theoretical solution for him in the space of a few weeks. She wanted his research acumen and charms know-how to help her make the transition from the theoretical transfiguration model she had created to a practical layered enchantment.

They had worked side by side as they decided which enchantments would best deliver the results they wanted for their final product, this included endless testing of obscure spells they read about between the school library and Kurt’s ever growing collection of obscure books- most of them gifts from the people he knew all over the planet from his many travels. They had then begun the arduous task of layer the spells into a single charm, a task never undertaken by any in the wizarding world.

Hermione, Tracey and Kurt had been working on their silent spell casting for some time since they had first discussed the layering of spells, knowing that one day it would be a useful skill to have in their arsenal. They had first tried combining the verbal with the non-verbal enchantments, then combined those into a single enchantment- it had taken some trial and error to get the result perfect, this included asking their academic peers to volunteer as test subjects.

The only incidence that had required them to visit the hospital wing was when Lisa had struck an unexpecting Kurt with lightning, missing the cloak and the point of the exercise in the process. Kurt suspected that it had something to do with him starting the rumour that she was bald or the growing ice between him and Harry. The group of girls had also shown them how easy their enchantment was to teach, something that Kurt had been afraid of; the enchantment was a tool, not for the creation of protective gear but for limiting danger in the academic process of Spell Creation and Analysis.

“When your robes turn white, you’re dead,” Harry explained as his group gathered one end of the arena, “Whomever is still alive at the end of the hour should consider themselves a victor. One more thing to remember about the rules of duelling is-”

“That they don’t apply in this game,” Kurt cut him off, “we’re simulating a battle with people who would be willing to use the darkest magic, I don’t think they’ll have the honour to fight you one by one- don’t mistake of thinking they’ll go easy on you because your children.”

“When the light flashes red, the game begins,” Hermione explained throwing a ball of white light in the air, “Get to strategizing.”

“The law still applies,” Kurt giggled, “We may have a vagrant disregard for the school rules but you cannot actually kill each other or use any of the unforgivable curses.”

“What’s the plan team?” Terry grinned at him.

“We go for the older students first,” Hermione spoke, taking point, “we try to eliminate as many of the NEWT and Senior students and the juniors will be easy prey.”

“Make them take the defensive role,” Kurt smiled, “It’s part of the exercise, they should defend themselves so we can see how well they can do that.”

His team nodded their agreement, “Alright, break.”

As soon as Hermione spoke the words, the ball of white light flashed red and caught the other side unawares as they were still strategizing. Kurt and Hermione had intended it this way, they would panic and this would better simulate the reality of battling the Death Eaters. They would not coordinate their times with Lord Voldemort, they knew that for any given battle either side could be ambushed, as such they must be ready to fight with little preparation.

Kurt flicked his wand and his robes turned to shadow, and he was gone. Kurt had woven the shadow thread into soft, light pashmina-esque fabric and had that tailored into elegant robes that the untrained eye could not discern from standard robes. When one paid attention to the robes, they would notice the way they bent light away and shadows toward them, Kurt could manipulate light to render himself invisible or to travel from one shadow to another.

Kurt was still learning how to use the art, he had done endless research on the origin of shadow thread before he could find any use for it- having bought it in Japan because he liked the shade of black. It was only after discovering the primary input that he was able to begin his work; the thread is spun from the wool of a magical variety of Australian cashmere goats, the wool normally has no magical value but the very rare black lamb is known to disappear very soon after birth. To the common wizard, this is believed to be the result of selective breeding but Kurt’s source had observed his herd carefully and seen the young lamb reappear seemingly from thin air to suckle from his mother’s teat.

Once the robes were made, it was not easy to harness their abilities but with work Kurt had begun to bend light with the application of his understanding of physical science. Kurt was yet to completely disappear in a room that was well lit but when he had altered this room, he had dimmed the lights such that he would be able to both disappear and shadow travel.

He appeared behind Angelina Johnson, she didn’t have a chance to turn in his direction before he raised his wand, “Expelliarmus.” Her wand flew out of her hand, “I’m confident of your abilities, go be seen outside out and about in the castle.”

“But this was going to be so much fun,” she grumbled.

“This isn’t a game,” Kurt shook his head, tapping her chest with his wand and turning her robes white, “Away with you.”

“Fine,” she trudged away, her irritation evident.

Kurt looked about the arena for a senior to dismiss but found that Hermione and Padma had made quick work of dismissing the able-bodied members of the defensive team, giving the younger members more opportunity to encounter the teaching group. Kurt nodded to Hermione and Padma’s stone turned from amethyst to topaz, a knowing look crossed her face and she dismissed the last of the NEWT students.

The younger students noticed the change in dynamic as their stones started changing colour, everyone but the best fifth year students held a topaz in their hand. Neville looked down at his amethyst in shock, a wicked smile flashed across his face, “let’s dance.”

“Aculeus,” Kurt purred, slashing his wand violently in Seamus Finnegan’s direction. The boy scrambled sideways and Kurt slashed violently once more, “flagellum.”

Kurt’s wand stretched into a whip and cracked upon contact with the other boy’s chest, the point of contact turned white for the moment of impact but returned to its usually faded black. Seamus’s expression turned from fearful to jovial, “Gonna take more than that to kill me.”

Kurt scoffed and raised a challenging brow, the boy’s body went rigid for a moment before he started convulsing with his teeth gritted so hard they looked like they would crack. His robes slowly turned from black to white, “no place for banter in battle.”

Kurt shook his head and pulled back the whip from where the tip had rested on the boy’s shoe, Kurt had merely sent the lightning through the whip- an extension of his wand- and thwarted the boy’s smugness.

“Expelliarmus,” A fearful voice called from behind him, Kurt turned to see a petrified looking Ming Prewett, “verdimillous.”

“Protego,” Kurt raised his hand, stopping the spell before it could hit its mark.

“Reducto,” Ming persisted. Kurt flicked his hand nonchelantly, with a single stroke he managed to deflect the curse and knock Ming across the arena. She tumbled out of the fall, making a swift recovery but Kurt had bent the shadows such that he appeared beside her with his wand in hand, “How did you do that?”

Kurt breathed fire at her and her robes turned white, “Omnia ope doctrina.”

“Et bene, laudabiliter studuisse,” a confident voice came from his right, “patrificus totalus.”

Kurt held up his hand and the jinx bounced back, “Denis.” He shook his head, he continued to speak in Latin, “ _you may have studied me well_ , _you may be one of the foremost scholars in_ Kurt Elizabeth Hummel.” Kurt melted into the shadow behind him and appeared right in front of where the second-year Gryffindor was standing, “but you’ll never know everything.”

Denis’s eyes grew wide as Kurt punched him in the gut with a fist full of fire, “Awesome.”

Kurt looked around to see that he had just taken out the last of team topaz aside from Harry Potter, the pair exchanged a charged look. Harry bowed to him and Kurt, raising a curious brow, did the same in return. They both counted to three, Kurt knew that this duel would settle their argument of whose path would they follow- Kurt’s or Harry’s?

“Expelliarmus,” Harry flourisher his wand.

Kurt responded with the same extravagance, his voice just as large, “Protego.” He brought his hands to clap and sent a wave of thunder across the arena that knocked Harry back and stunned him.

The Boy Who Lived was resilient and was on his feet not a moment later, Kurt had to give his friend credit for his perseverance but he knew better than to let him win that easily; on his side he had knowledge and logic, that made him obstinate- a trait more powerful than any man’s perseverance. Kurt knew that his refusal to change course was a trait that he shared with Lord Voldemort, if the Dark Lord had given up on his single-minded pursuit of Harry Potter he might have achieved so much more by. The man’s insistence on waiting for Harry Potter for his rebirthing had lost his cause a full year, his discrediting of Harry at present was losing him time. Kurt knew that in the future, this fixation would once more work to their advantage.

Kurt flashed a malevolent grin, swishing and flicking his wand, “oh babe.”

Harry was lifted into the air by his shoe, Kurt holding the tightly laced sneaker suspended in mid-air with the levitation spell. Kurt disappeared and appeared infront of a falling Harry, “Flipendo.”

The boy was flipped over and knocked further back, Kurt touched gently on the ground and was pleased Harry had made a swift recovery. Kurt only wished Harry loved magic and learning even half as much as he did, then he would understand why Kurt was trying to facilitate the Dark Lord’s fall in the way in which he intended. Hermione had listened to reason, nodded along to what he was saying. She had raised the classic objections he’d come to expect of the Gryffindors in his life but had ultimately agreed that his way may be the best way forward, then she’d asked him a question that stung, “What does Professor Dumbledore think?”

She had regretted it as soon as she asked the question, remembering too late that the aged Headmaster and Kurt were no longer simpatico. Kurt and Professor Dumbledore had opposing views on how to proceed in the wake of last year’s events, Kurt had not canonised the man as others had and was able to see that inaction on anybody’s part was a fool’s errand; that’s why he had mobilised the students, why he had engaged every one of his suitors across the globe on the matter and encouraged them to engage their peers, and that’s why he felt that Fleur, Viktor, Santana and Charles were key assets on the continent.

Kurt had used Hermione to encourage Viktor to probe the matter, use his celebrity to bring the matter to people’s attention and that was still something they were working on. Kurt had manipulated both former champions by using Barty Crouch Jr’s intervention during the Triwizard Tournament as the reason for their respective failures to emerge victorious, pride was a powerful weapon and had inspired both schools to buy into the fact that the only way they’re schools best could be defeated by Harry Potter was through the intervention of sinister forces. Kurt used the people he knew to ensure people that Harry was not the sinister force itself but yet another victim.

Hipster Weasley was technically an adult, Kurt knew that he could influence an entirely different demographic from himself and other teens. If Bill hadn’t made the ill-advised decision to transfer to Gringotts, he too would have been with tasked with letting people out there know the truth of Lord Voldemort’s return. Kurt had tasked Hipster Weasley with spreading the word through ‘Pub Politics’, meeting a group of people at their local watering hole and appealing to them to take their cause seriously. It had taken some convincing to get the older Weasley to go against Professor Dumbledore’s wishes but Kurt had managed to ensure things worked out in his favour.

Kurt had been trying to put himself in the mind of Lord Voldemort but was failing, he couldn’t understand why the Dark Lord wasn’t making moves on the rest of Europe? Was Kurt wasting resources on trying to prepare Continental Europe for a threat that would never come? Lord Voldemort wasn’t interested in building an empire, if he was he wouldn’t be so focussed on Harry Potter. If Kurt was in Lord Voldemort’s position he would have taken half of Europe by the sword by now, using muggles as pawns to gain ground. But then again Kurt would never have made the house call to Godric’s Hollow that Halloween night, he would have deligated the task to… well, the LeStranges; they were his most effective followers after all.

Kurt was beginning to see that Harry Potter was a more important piece of this puzzle than he had previously thought. Kurt stopped in his tracks, what was it about Harry Potter that made the man so desperate to kill him? James Potter wasn’t the only member of a prominent pure blood family to marry ‘below’ his station at the time, what made the Potters so special that they deserved a house call? That they would go into hiding while the Weasleys, known blood traitors, would not when they had more children to protect?

Kurt was knocked over as his mind raced, what was it about Harry Potter? He had delegated the Longbottoms who fit a similar profile, he had delegated Argyris Mopsus, he had used his lieutenants so wisely up until that point; what was it about Harry Potter? What about the Potters made the Dark Lord act as he did?

Kurt felt the stunning spell hit him dead centre in the chest but his mind did not stop, as his wand fell from his hands and he raised them in surrender. Kurt had tired of trying to put himself in the Dark Lord’s mind but he knew somebody who understood that mind better than he ever would.

“ _Get up and fight_ ,” Harry whispered, “ _pick up your wand._ ”

“ _No._ ”

“ _It doesn’t count if you don’t fight,_ ” Harry growled in his flowing parseltongue, “ _You have to fight._ ”

“ _You win,_ ” Kurt shrugged getting to his feet, “ _I know when I’m beat, my defeat of you in this duel doesn’t change that._ ”

“ _Fight! You coward._ ”

“ _I’m not in Gryffindor, that doesn’t work on me,_ ” Kurt chuckled, “ _take it in stride, you beat_ Kurt Hummel.”

“Wasn’t that quite the show?” Hermione clapped her hands and the juniors cheered for Harry. Denis helped Kurt to his feet, moving to dust sand of his robe but seing that not a single grain had stuck to the onyx robes, “This is our last meeting for the year, we’ll reconvene after Christmas.”

There was a chorus of groans, “Before we disperse.” Kurt smiled, “Venir.” A basket of chocolate bars appeared in his hands, “Who wants some chocolate?”

Hermione continued to speak as the juniors, and more covertly the seniors, charged Kurt for chocolate bars, “Continue to practice whenever possible.” She turned to the pair of dark haired, bespectacled boys, “a word.”

The Room of Requirement had shifted back into a small plain room that resembled a classroom and the members of Dumbledore’s Army had cleared out quickly, Kurt put away the empty basket, “I have to set up a very important meeting.”

“No,” Hermione shook her head, “You two chose to have it out in front of the children?”

“That’s my line,” Kurt smirked.

“Inconsequential,” Hermione reprimanded him, “that was careless.”

“Kurt has a point, caring about the children is kind of his thing.”

“We didn’t use any dangerous magic and we didn’t let our personal disagreements rise to the surface,” Kurt assured her.

“Speak for yourself,” Hermione snapped, “When you disappeared into yourself, Harry was an emotional mess.” She straightened up, “Luckily, it only lasted for the sliver of a moment, nobody but me noticed.”

“Can I go now?” Kurt raised an impatient brow, “I still have letters to send out.”

“I thought Hermione banned you from the owlery,” Harry knitted his brow.

“I did,” Hermione glared at him, “I’ll be sure to audit those letters.”

“None of these are to my desire of suitors, which you completely destroyed,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “I do more than think of boys!”

“Fine, but what of Harry?”

“I’ll deal with his brooding tomorrow,” Kurt waved a dismissive hand, “Or maybe ask his girlfriend to help you.”

“She says he’s all sunshine and roses with her,” Hermione groaned, “Ron doesn’t know anything either.”

“Did you think to ask Luna?” Kurt quirked a brow, as if it were the most obvious solution ever.

“Did you think to ask me?”

“Tomorrow,” Kurt smiled, “auf wiedersehen.”

~0~

“Mr Hummel,” Professor Dumbledore furrowed his brow, “What brings you here?”

“I was in a meeting with Professor Snape when he received your summons,” Kurt’s words were laced with malice, “he thought it best I join him.”

“You were with Professor Snape at this hour?” Professor McGonagall looked between the pair.

“It was the first mutual opening in our schedules,” Kurt explained, “I had to do my homework and independent study after I dismiss evening detention.”

“Mr Hummel insisted on boring me with his questions today,” Professor Snape elaborated, “technically he had failed but I acquiesced to his childish and foolish thoughts.”

Kurt could hear what the man wasn’t saying, ‘dangerous.’ That confirmed that he was on the right track, “so he has been trying to snub my genius on the way, instead of making me wait till he got back from whatever this is.”

“I see,” Professor McGonagall’s gaze didn’t soften.

Kurt averted his gaze and came to land on Harry, sweating and looking dishevelled, “Harry you look awful, whatever is the matter?”

“The snake,” Harry shook as he spoke, “it’s got Mr Weasley.”

“The snake?”

“Nagini,” Professor Dumbledore explained, “it seems that Harry and Voldemort share some kind of connection, that’s why he’s been able to see him in dreams and visions in the past.”

“Should have had that talk today, shouldn’t we?” Kurt nodded his understanding.

“I beg your pardon,” Professor Dumbledore quirked a curious brow.

“The connection is working both ways,” Kurt explained without understanding, “Lord Voldemort’s less than savoury personality traits have been pouring out into Harry, he’s been impatient and obstinate and… I hear that’s what the Dark Lord was like.”

“How long?”

“I beg your pardon?” Kurt turned to Professor Snape with a start.

“How long has this connection been evident to you?” the man pressed him.

“I’m not sure,” Kurt shook his head, “it’s only clear in retrospect, but I’d suspect that it’s been growing since the Dark Mark appeared at the Quidditch World Cup and it plateaued after the Dark Lord’s return.”

“When he used Potter’s blood to return,” Professor McGonagall shook her head, “and you didn’t think to bring this to my attention?”

“I’ve been preoccupied with my OWL preparations,” Kurt turned up his nose at the accusation, “And Harry Potter’s wellbeing seemed a task more befitting the attention of a Gryffindor prefect.” Kurt turned to Harry, “the traits also only manifested at moments where a reaction of that nature wouldn’t be out of the question.”

“Very well,” Professor McGonagall nodded, “I’ll go prepare the Weasley’s for their trip home. I’ll leave the matter of Mr Potter in your hands Albus.”

“Good Evening Professor McGonagall,” Kurt and Professor Snape chorused.

“You see what needs to be Severus,” Professor Dumbledore spoke with new found urgency.

“I understand Headmaster,” Professor Snape nodded and turned to leave.

“Follow Professor Snape,” the elderly wizard spoke to Harry, who agreed without question.

Kurt stayed rooted in place, as everybody left the Headmaster’s office but him and Professor Dumbledore, “Professor Umbridge must be made aware that students have been removed from school grounds due to a family emergency.” Kurt heard himself speak, his voice felt so comfortable offering advice to the man with whom he’d not spoken in months, “making her feel involved will stop her looking too hard at the situation.”

“The boy is correct Albus,” the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black spoke with pride.

Professor Dumbledore nodded but did not move, “is there anything else Mr Hummel?”

“While the mental link might be a new development, I’m beginning to believe that Harry and Lord Voldemort have shared a different connection for much longer,” Kurt rolled his shoulders and stared squarely at the man, “it’s all connected, why the LeStranges attacked the Longbottoms, how Pettigrew came to betray the Potters, why the Potters were in hiding, why the Dark Lord sought to kill them himself, why Harry survived the Killing Curse.”

“Is that so?”

“It’s the reason you’ve been so keen to let things play out without intervention,” Kurt explained, “almost as if you believe our path to be a self-” he let out a small laugh, “Oh, Professor Dumbledore. What are you not telling me?”


	12. Chapter 12

“Mr Hummel,” Professor McGonagall smiled politely as she ushered him into her office, “I was surprised that you would request a meeting this morning, given how hard you campaigned to keep this Hogsmead visit on the calendar.”

Kurt spun on the spot, “I have a date, two actually.”

“My,” Professor McGonagall gave him a cursory glance, “aren’t we a busy body.”

“Oh Professor McGonagall,” Kurt shook his head, “They’ll never say my youth was wasted on the young.”

“Certainly not,” she gestured for him to take a seat, “how can I help you this morning Mr Hummel?”

“I wanted to ask you a few questions.”

“A few questions?” Professor McGonagall raised a curious brow, “If they are pertinent to the matter I believe they are, I don’t think that would be appropriate for me to discuss that matter with you.”

“Appropriate?” Kurt smirked, “I don’t understand.”

“I cannot discuss two students with another,” Professor McGonagall explained, “You wouldn’t expect me to break your confidence and divulge information about you to a third party, would you?”

“I’m not asking about Harry Potter’s parents,” Kurt shook his head.

Professor McGonagall tilted her head in surprise, “Professor Dumbledore says you’ve been poking around the matter.”

“Not in their capacity as your students and wards,” Kurt explained, “I’m asking about two prominent members of the resistance to the Dark Lord’s first rise to power, but that’s not what brings me here this morning.”

“Has anyone ever told you how unsettling it is to hear you call him the ‘Dark Lord’?”

“All the time,” Kurt nodded, “Ron says it makes his skin crawl, I don’t get what the big deal is.” He shrugged, reclining in his seat, “You people get your feathers ruffled when I call him by his name, you get touched when I call him the Dark Lord. There seems to be no winning with you.”

“You people?”

“Those members of the population with a more evolved understanding of the wizarding world during the Dark Lord’s last reign,” Kurt waved his hand dismissively, “those of you who are supposed to be setting an example for the younger crowd on how they should be processing given recent developments.”

“Fair,” Professor McGonagall admitted.

“Given that I’ve primarily observed the behaviour of former Gryffindor students, I’d expect a little more courage,” Kurt pursed his lips, a smirk twisting his face mischievously, “isn’t that supposed to be your thing.”

“It is _our thing_ ,” Professor McGonagall smirked, “Which is why we outnumber every other house in the resistance.”

“Touché,” Kurt smiled, “Yet you still cower at the sound of a name, Lord Voldemort.”

“He Who Shall Not Be Named is so named with good reason,” Professor McGonagall assured him.

“I’m not saying there isn’t good reason,” Kurt shrugged, “but as Hermione Granger says, ‘fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself’.”

“Ms Granger is quite something.”

“Hermione Granger is brilliant but she is more foolhardy than wise,” He straightened his back and looked Professor McGonagall dead in the eye as he focused on the matter at hand, “You have to help me make sense of this.” Kurt took a deep breath, “I’m here to try to discern history from folk-tale.”

“And you don’t think Professor Binns would be a better fit for this line of questioning?”

“Professor Binns doesn’t entertain questions from outside the realm of textbook knowledge,” Kurt chuckled, “and this is so far outside that sphere that it is nearing the edge of sanity.”

“Sanity?” Professor McGonagall’s attention was piqued, “I don’t understand.”

“I know that you, like Hermione and I, are sceptical about the art of divination,” Kurt pursed his lips, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth nervously, “and I divined this knowledge.”

“I’m more sceptical of Professor Trelawney than the art of divination,” Professor McGonagall chuckled, “but go on.”

“Oh right,” Kurt nodded, not finishing his thought.

“So, what was your question?”

“I’m looking for a historical dichotomy,” Kurt explained, “Something really old that contrasts two figures of light, the sun and the moon.”

“I don’t understand your question,” Professor McGonagall tilted her head.

“Are you familiar with Plato’s Symposium?” Professor McGonagall shook her head, “Well, it was this epic dinner party and everybody there had to get up and tell a story or give a speech that imparts knowledge or wisdom on those present.”

“I see,” Professor McGonagall nodded.

“One of the stories aims to explain human sexuality,” Kurt explained, “and it does so by creating an alternate origin for the human race where we are described as being two people glued up back to back.”

“That doesn’t sound like it would work at all.”

“Just listen, so it creates a contrast between the Children of the Sun and Earth who are homogenous, same gender combinations,” Kurt spoke quickly, he had a lot of information to get through in a short space of time, “and the Children of the Moon are a heterogenous, male-female combinations.”

“Then what happens?” Professor McGonagall leaned forward, intrigue evident on her face.

“The Gods grow afraid of their strength and defiance, believing these four legged creatures to be too powerful due to their ability to maintain periphery vision while they spoke and read at the same time” Kurt waved the matter off nonchalantly, “and split them into individual bipedal beings. Love stems from the desire to become one once more, that part doesn’t matter.” Kurt leaned forward, “The important part is the contrast between the sun and the moon, and divine intervention; it’s a recurring theme.”

“Recurring theme?”

“The same thing happens in The Chronicles of Narnia, which includes a parallel to the Hogwarts Founders,” Kurt’s words were coming out on top of each other, “the tale of Lycan and Langa creates a similar parallel, and includes an all powerful intervention.” Kurt shook his head, “these stories were told a thousand years apart and the same picture emerges from three different positions; the muggle and wizarding worlds, and where they intersect.”

Kurt shook his head, “I just don’t see why the same themes would come up over and over again.”

“Why is this so important to you?”

“I’m curious.”

“You’re curious?”

“I get very curious about a number of things,” Kurt explained, “I have a hungry mind.” Kurt crossed his arms, “I used to ask Professor Dumbledore but he hasn’t been very willing entertain this year, at least not me.”

“I see,” Professor McGonagall nodded, “but unfortunately I can’t help you.”

“Clive Lewis, who wrote one of the stories,” Kurt went on explaining, “was a squib not much older than you are, his peers were in fourth year when you started at Hogwarts.”

“I’m sorry but I can’t help you,” Professor McGonagall pursed her lips and shook her head.

“Deplorable word,” Kurt shook his head, “that doesn’t mean anything to you?”

“Can’t say it does.”

Kurt nodded his head solemnly, “Thank you for your time Professor McGonagall.”

“I wish there was more I could tell you.”

“It’s fine,” Kurt smiled, “I must be off.”

Kurt walked briskly down the hall, he had some time before his next engagement but not enough to make it to Hogsmead on foot. Kurt made his way down the stairs toward the main entrance hall, but turned just short of the final landing into a wall covered in shadow and disappeared. Kurt released a breath he’d been holding when he emerged from the Shadow of Madam Puddifoot’s Tea shop, when Kurt exited the alleyway into the light he saw Harry and Lisa canoodling in the window.

He made his way through the small town toward the Three Broomsticks Inn, the snow melting before it could ruin the leather on his new riding boots. Kurt entered the bar and took the seat opposite a waiting Noah Puckerman, “Good morning.” he smiled politely, “How are we this morning?”

“We,” the young man’s voice was smoky when he spoke, he looked suggestively down at his lap for a moment and smirked suggestively, “are much happier now that you’re here.”

“Don’t be crude,” Kurt could feel the blush creeping up his neck, peaking above his turtleneck, but his tone almost matched Noah’s. Kurt found himself being flirtier than he had anticipated, “although, I must admit that your American accent does suit the premise well.”

Noah bit gently at his lip, “You want to talk about sexy accents? You do realise that a British accent is an automatic plus one or two, it’s like the golden rule.”

“The Sterling Rule love,” Kurt pursed his lips, “We didn’t part-take in the gold standard.”

“Now I think you’re just showing off,” the young man leaned forward, giving Kurt bedroom eyes, “it’s almost as if you’re trying to impress me.”

“Oh Noah,” Kurt smirked, “you’ll know when I’m trying to impress you, I can be quite… impressive.”

“You mean to tell me that there’s more to you than that pretty face, great body and the greatest mind of the century?” Puck quirked a suggestive brow.

“It feels almost as if you tacked that last bit about my mind as an afterthought,” Kurt shook his head in disapproval, preening internally at his own humility, “To satiate the beast. Maybe you just want me for my physically attractiveness because you know so little about my mind, too little to covet it.”

“You managed to force your way into my mind without saying a single word while dressed in sensible office wear,” Noah nodded as he waved over a waitress, “I worked with you, I know your mind.”

“Do you? Because my mind may be complex but I’ve met the greatest mind of the century, and it is impressive,” Kurt played coy, “I’m fantastic but what if I’ve created an image I cannot live up to.”

“I have no doubt that I’m only going to be more and more impressed with you,” Puck smirked, “You’re loquacious and I’m willing to overlook that you don’t like my sense of humour.”

“Good morning and welcome to the Three Broomsticks,” the young witch spoke monotonously, “how can I help you?”

“I’ll have a butterbeer with ginger and lemon slices on the side,” Kurt smiled politely, “no foam.”

“I’ll have a bourbon,” Noah eyed the menu, “and I’ll have the special. Nothing to eat?”

“I’m having lunch with my gran,” Kurt shook his head, wondering if he had called Druella his gran because it was less complicated than the alternative or if he truly identified her as such.

“Double booked,” Noah winced, “Brutal.”

“I’d forgotten that I had committed myself to the lunch when I asked you to brunch,” Kurt tried to assuage the man of his fears that he wasn’t interested, he didn’t want to discourage any of his remaining suitors considering Hermione had dismissed a significant portion of his desire of suitors. He needed the positive energy of being admired in these dark and uncertain times, “And my gran does not reschedule, she’s self-important that way.”

“Tends to command the respect of people, expect them to live up to her very high expectations and bend to her will?” Noah smirked, “I know the type.”

“I’ve said nothing of bending,” Kurt pursed his lips, “yet.”

“Don’t be a tease,” The other man growled, fire burning in his brown eyes, “I’m not one to take disappointment well.” He gestured for Kurt to lean forward, leaned in closer to Kurt and whispered, “and neither is he.”

“Oh Noah,” Kurt wagged a disciplinary finger, “I have always preferred it when a man rules his member, not the other way around.”

Kurt leaned back in his seat, the young man’s passion was just as it had been in the letters he’d sent Kurt. His letters had ranged from admiration of Kurt’s mind, to desire for Kurt’s form and had even been filled with explicit descriptions of what he would do to Kurt if he was given the chance- the latter had made Hermione blush a new shade of scarlet. Kurt wasn’t sure how he felt about this kind of wanting; he was flattered by the attention, as he always was in such a case, but there was something so distinctly un-British about the way he wore his feelings on sleeve.

Kurt’d had suitors from other cultures before but none of them had been sufficiently familiar as to come on this strongly, let alone as brazenly. Terry, who had publicly declared that he was a ‘Hummelsexual’ and refused to be discounted as a suitor, had always used innuendo and proper language when speaking of anything sexual. Cedric’s speech had always failed him on the subject, they had let their bodies speak for them; an exploratory relationship, they mapped the boundaries and the lay of the land as they went. Gregory took his cues from Kurt but Noah was different, he was a man; he knew what he wanted, how he wanted it and he was honest about his desires.

Kurt wasn’t sure how he felt about somebody who knew the ways of the world so much better than he did, was he ready to take a passive, receiving position? Kurt engaged in every aspect of his life, he took some charge whenever possible; Kurt was even in charge of the education of others at this point, Kurt had been learning on his own terms for a while now but he now held the education of others in his hands. Maybe Puck was too worldly for Kurt?

He wanted to shake his head, if he could bring the Minister for Magic to his knees then he could handle one brash American. Kurt would use his more refined manner as a point of conflict to gain the upper hand, he would bend Noah Puckerman to his will by being the prissy Brit he was. This desire of suitors only worked when Kurt was pulling the strings, not the other way around.

“I prefer my men more refined than that.”

“Well,” Noah bowed, “I shall strive to be an officer and a gentleman, Mr Hummel.”

“Master Hummel,” Kurt corrected, “of the Order of the White Lotus.”

“I stand corrected,” Noah gaped at him, his lip seemed to curl back into place between his teeth whenever idle. Kurt considered the invitation they were extending but chose to remain reclined, the only way to break Noah was to hold out. Waiting would be both their test, was there anything left between them in the absence of sexual desire?

~0~

Le Château d’Hiver de la Famille Noire was a great fortress that sat on a mountainside, not unlike Hogwarts. Kurt had appeared from a shadow behind an elm and made his way up the freshly shovelled cobblestone walkway, knocking firmly on the large door made of dark wood.

The winter castle was different from the summer house where Kurt had last met Druella; it had an older look to it and was lit artificially where the summer house had been lit by large bay windows. The walls had a cold grey stone facing, where the summer house had bright yellow walls; despite the cold bare stone and the chilly mountain climate, this house was warmer thanks to a large rectangular hearth that bisected the great room.

Kurt was escorted to his seat by Azimuth, the house elf was courteous and it made Kurt smile to see how different things could begin to be. Druella’s house elf was dressed in a modest French maid’s outfit- as she’d been the last time Kurt saw her- in place of the rag worn by most house elves. Kurt suspected that it was an aesthetic choice on Druella’s part but he had observed the dignity bestowed on the house elf by respectable clothing, how it humanised her in her masters eyes and how it demanded that her pure blood supremacist respect her.

“My darling Rigel,” Jadis smiled up at him, “How have you been?”

“I’ve been well,” Kurt smiled politely at the blond-haired woman, “and it’s Kurt, we discussed this.”

“Oh yes,” she nodded, “Kurt.”

He did not take offence at how she rolled the name off her tongue like a bitter taste, Druella merely smiled politely, “I hear you’ve taken my advice and you’re dating Gregory Goyle.”

“I am not dating Gregory Goyle,” Kurt corrected, “we’re just enjoying each other’s company, is all.”

“We had a term for people who enjoy the company of men during my day at Hogwarts,” Druella smirked, “promiscuous.”

“I thought we just called them sluts,” Jadis quirked a curious brow.

“We used both interchangeably,” Druella nodded, “I just didn’t want to call our Grandson harlot.”

“Then he shouldn’t enjoy the company of men,” Jadis shook her head, “Look at what it did to Andromeda.”

“That was one boy,” Druella and Kurt chorused.

“And it didn’t do anything _to_ her,” Kurt explained, “It’s just different from your understanding of the world.”

“Let’s not do this again,” Druella rolled her eyes, “it gives me a head ache to listen to you speak of social revolution.” She gave a small smirk, “I tire of you liberals and your agenda.”

“Oppression is pain,” Kurt pursed his lips, “and pain demands to be felt.”

“You sound like the satire of a hippie,” Jadis chortled, sipping her wine.

They were served an aspic that depicted the endless and fruitless chase between predator and prey; the diorama was perverted by the fact that both prey and predator were anchovies, aiming to cannibalise each other.

“This is… interesting,” Kurt nodded to himself as he eyed the dish before him, “it’s quite the art piece.”

“It’s one of Azimuth’s speciality dishes,” Druella gave a small smile.

Jadis echoed the gesture, her smile broader and warmer, “it’s always a delight to have.”

“Bon apatite,” Druella pursed her lips and watched as he brought a morsel of the gelatinous art piece to his mouth. Kurt moaned as the salty jelly melted on his tongue with a burst of anchovies as a delicate note at the end of the forkful, “And?”

“Exquisite,” Kurt smiled, “do give Azimuth my compliments, she is truly gifted.”

“Three kids were raised on her cooking,” Druella smirked, “I expect nothing short of perfection from her, as I did from my children.”

Kurt was tempted to ask her how that had worked out for her but chose to hold his tongue, he was a guest and knew better than to antagonise his host. He enjoyed his meal in relative silence, sipping his wine liberally before speaking, “Tell me about her, Bellatrix. What was she like?”

“Bella was determined,” Druella spoke of her daughter as if she had died, instead of being incarcerated, “she poured herself wholly into aspects of her life that she deemed worthy of her attention.” The woman was silent, as if trying to remember an old friend, “she always strived to do what she deemed to be proper, to the best of her ability.”

“I do think he wants to know her as a person,” Jadis smirked, “not as a proper automaton.”

“What do you know of automatons?”

“I’m a worldly person,” Jadis smirked, “I got an outstanding on my Muggle Studies’ OWL and NEWTs.”

“That’s really impressive,” Kurt grinned.

“Hardly,” Druella scoffed, “Muggle Studies isn’t at all challenging, I found it to be rather boring.”

“That’s why you didn’t do as well as I did,” Jadis smirked.

“That,” Druella scoffed, “the fact that I had lost the ability to care, and I was head girl.”

“I was head girl,” Jadis repeated, mimicking Druella’s deadpan tone, “Shut up, we all know Dippet only picked you because he couldn’t say my name.”

“I can’t believe you’re still bitter about one hard J,” Druella shook her head, “it’s been forty-seven years, let it go.”

“ _Dzha-dis_ ,” the blonde woman sounded out her name, “not ‘Jade is’, nothing near Judas in sound!”

Druella rolled her eyes, “you’re really going to hold on to this.”

“I think he was biased against me because I was in Slytherin,” Jadis grumbled.

Kurt quirked a brow and turned to Druella, “You weren’t in Slytherin? I thought all Blacks were in Slytherin.”

“I wasn’t born a Black,” Druella shook her head, “I was Druella Rosier when I was at Hogwarts, Ravenclaw house prefect too.”

“Ravenclaw,” Kurt nodded to himself, “I was almost in Ravenclaw.”

“We’re a very selective house,” Druella gave a self-satisfied smirk.

“Druella Rosier,” Jadis mused, “I remember the day I met that uptight bitch.” She lowered her voice and spoke without modulation, “‘my brother plays for the Slytherin quidditch team, he’s the best seeker of the decade.’ It was the first year of the decade.”

 “I was eleven,” Druella shook her head, “I thought more of Evan then, rest his soul.”

 “Evan Rosier wasn’t that old when he died,” Kurt furrowed his brow.

“That would be Evan’s son,” Druella corrected, “neither was very bright… or creative given that he couldn’t come up with a name.”

“Ah, Evan Senior and Evan Junior,” Kurt nodded to himself.

“Yes,” Druella nodded, shooting a sideways glance at Jadis, “Jadis is acting as if my brother didn’t serve some use, he did introduce her to Rodric. He introduced both us to our husbands actually.”

“What was Cygnus Black, the third like?” Kurt smirked, “was he a dashing fellow?”

“Oh,” Jadis smirked, “he was a biscuit.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“It’s a thing,” Jadis shrugged, eliciting a chuckle from Kurt.

“I will tell you what I told my daughters,” Druella gave a cold smile, “looks are not everything; Bellatrix married a man who passionate and adoring, Andromeda’s husband- though not befitting somebody of her station- is kind. Narcissa married a handsome and proud man, she was rewarded with Draco.”

“Wow,” Kurt chuckled, “I think the only person who likes Draco less than you is possibly Ron Weasley.”

 “It’s not that I dislike him,” Druella shook her head, “it started out as my standard dislike for children but he’s just grown into such an unpleasant human, too much like his father.”

Kurt chuckled, “I had to share a room with him for four years, you don’t have to convince me.”

“You two must be so proud of yourselves,” Jadis shook her head reproachfully, “making fun of a sixteen-year-old boy.”

“I’m always proud of myself,” Kurt nodded, “Which is why I must admit that I have come here today because I shamelessly have an ulterior motive.”

“And there I was thinking it was because you missed two old ladies that you only met earlier this year,” Druella deadpanned.

“Yes,” Kurt nodded, “Your feelings must be so hurt.”

“However can we help you?” Jadis’s tone was softer and more understanding, “is it money? You are the sole heir to the LeStrange fortune, I suppose it must have been passed down to you when your grandfather died.”

“No,” Kurt shook his head, “as I’ve said before, I have no interest in any family money.”

“But it has been willed to you by wizarding law,” Druella shook her head, “when each of your Grandfathers died, their estates passed to the beneficiaries of their Last Will and Testament. Bellatrix was her father’s favourite and received almost everything, but due to her incarceration it passes to her Next of Kin- you.”

“The same with Rodric’s estate,” Jadis agreed, “We’re merely custodians until you reach your majority.”

“That’s fine, you can have it if you want it,” Kurt shrugged dismissively, “I’m more interested in family history.”

“We already assured you that there was no cancer in the family,” Jadis rolled her eyes.

“Yes,” Kurt nodded, “I want to know more about Haim Black, I’d actually like to speak to his portrait.”

“There’s one in the gallery,” Druella pointed to a set of large oak doors, just beyond the hearth, “The two of you can have some privacy.”

“Not that we’ll need it,” Kurt shook his head, “just going to ask him about his time at the ministry, it’s for a project I’m working on.”

Kurt was deliberately vague as he excused himself from the table, it would not be long till Bellatrix and Rudolphus were released from prison and Kurt didn’t want them catching a whiff what Kurt was working on.

~0~

Kurt opened the door and let the Weasley’s and members of the Order of the Pheonix into his home, “Good morning everyone. Merry Christmas.”

They returned the pleasantries as they were helped to check in their cloaks by the valets his father had hired when their Christmas dinner had increased in size exponentially.

“I hope you didn’t have trouble finding the place,” Kurt smiled smugly at his own joke.

“We had some difficulty in the middle of the street,” Charlie spoke as he leaned up on the archway into the formal Dinning Room.

Kurt quirked a brow, trying not to smile and choosing to purse his lips instead. He whispered his response, “Fuck you Hipster Weasley.”

“Forgive me,” he smirked, “I’m just fatigued from the journey.”

Kurt flashed him a fake smile, “Charming.” Kurt turned to the crowd, realising that it was made up almost entirely of Weasleys. Remus Lupin was the only member of the Order present, “will Sirius not be joining us?”

“No,” Molly shook her head, “he accepted an invitation from Andromeda.”

“How unfortunate,” Kurt’s smile fell, “Pa was looking forward to breaking his legs and taking him back Alsace-Lorraine.”

“You are so cancelled,” Ginny shook her head as they were directed downstairs.

Kurt smirked, “The only thing cancelled this year is the Gryffindor quidditch team.”

“Burn,” Finn shouted from downstairs.

“You children,” Mrs Weasley smirked, “Which way to the kitchen?”

“I’ll say this again Mrs Weasley,” Kurt smiled politely, “the event is catered, you don’t have to worry about that.”

“Ah yes,” she nodded, “catered.”

“Kurt,” Ron nodded his head in the direction of the formal lounge, “a word.”

“Of course,” Kurt nodded, holding up a finger to signal that he needed a moment, “please help yourselves to some appetizers, Finn will direct you to the bar.”

Kurt held his arm out, gesturing for Ron to lead the way into the lounge, he shut the doors behind them and waited for the boy to speak. Ron was quiet, fiddling with his hand which meant he was trying to structure his thoughts- this was serious. Kurt took a step closer to the boy and pursed his lips impatiently.

“Ronald,” he spoke in a clipped tone, “what is it?”

“Give me a minute,” the boy’s voice shook.

“I have champagne going flat,” Kurt crossed his arms over his chest expectantly, “what is it? Is it Sirius?”

“Yes, it’s serious.”

Kurt rolled his eyes, “is he being careless? Are we all going to be arrested.”

“Not Sirius,” Ron rolled his eyes, “serious.”

“Then why did you say yes when I asked if it was Sirius?”

“I thought you were saying serious,” Ron explained.

“Ah,” Kurt nodded, “then what is it?”

“Are you in love with him?” Ron asked him suddenly.

Kurt was taken aback by the question, “Who? Sirius?”

“No,” Ron waved his hands frantically, “Forget about Sirius.”

“Oh, thank heavens,” Kurt sighed in relief, “I thought you’d gone soft in the head.”

“Goyle, I mean,” Ron looked uncomfortable with the subject matter but kept speaking, “You’re snogging him on the regular, do you love him?”

“I’ve snogged him like twice,” Kurt giggled as he regained his composure, “I doubt that qualifies for the regular.”

“Because he’s in love with you,” Ron said suddenly, “it’s the way he looks at you. He looks at you the way Cedric used to, the way-” Ron went silent for a moment, “when he’s not looking at you like he wants to eat you, though I’m sure I remember Cedric having that look at least once, it’s love.”

“One would hope Cedric would have that look,” Kurt joked.

Ron shook his head, “I just thought you should know that much, no guy deserves to think he’s got more of a chance than he does. Don’t lead him on, not even a pureblood supremacist deserves that.”

“Ron,” Kurt furrowed his brow, “What are you saying?”

“I just want to know if you’re in love with Goyle.”

The line of questioning shocked Kurt, he didn’t know where this was coming from and he did not answer for a moment, “No.”

There was lingering silence between them, broken by Kurt’s own voice, “I’m not in love with any of them.” The silence returned and it was Kurt who broke it once more, “I wasn’t in love with Cedric in the beginning either, it came with time.”

“You weren’t?” Ron furrowed his brow so tightly that it was obvious that Kurt was destroying his understanding of how things work, “but you two were like-”

“I really liked him, don’t get me wrong,” Kurt explained, cutting the boy off before he put his foot into his mouth, “but I wasn’t in love with him from the get go, it took me while to believe I was in love with him. I was just drawn to him and really liked the person I found.”

“But you don’t have that with any of the others?”

“I’m not saying it’s not there,” Kurt shrugged, “I’ve only ever pursued, I’ve never really been pursued so I can’t tell you what it’s like to be the flame because I’m only now living that.”

“I see,” Ron nodded.

“Tell him not to discount himself,” Kurt smiled and Ron paled, “I don’t know who you’re asking for but tell them not to give up because somebody else is ahead in the race.” He gave his friend’s shoulder a friendly shove, “I would never have gotten Cedric if I’d just given up when he started dating Cho Chang.”

Ron chuckled, but then his face went serious, “I didn’t get it before, how you guys all felt this thing and were out there with people.” He took a deep breath, “then, when I came home it hit me! I wasn’t jealous of Krum or Cedric, it was what they felt; I tried to pretend like it was there but just isn’t.”

Kurt’s eyes went wide as he realised what was happening, what Ron was saying, what he was doing- he was coming out. Ron was telling him something deeply personal, something that he’d secretly known about himself for so long but hadn’t been able to put into words; he didn’t feel the same sexual and romantic attractions as his friends. Ron was telling him that he hadn’t built a relationship not because he was unable, as he always led them to believe, but because he didn’t want to; he didn’t want to be with anyone. Ron was asexual and aromantic, a rare but not unheard of combination.

“Too many people spend their lives thinking that their amorous connections are the only ones out there that validate our existence,” Kurt smiled, “it’s not true. My existence is affirmed by all of you just as much as it was by Cedric.” He placed a hand on Ron’s shoulder, “it’s perfectly fine if you only want to build platonic relationships, maybe someday there will be someone who’ll make you change your mind and maybe there won’t. Both are valid existences.”

Kurt pulled the gangly boy into a hug, “You know I love you and so does Jesus.”

“Who’s Jesus?” Ron furrowed his brow and blushed.

Kurt giggled, “It doesn’t matter, Merry Christmas dipshit.” Kurt slung his arm over the boy’s shoulder and led him down the stairs to the family Room, “Lavender Brown is going to be so very disappointed.”

“Now I feel bad,” Ron crossed his arms.

“Don’t,” Kurt reassured him, “she’s a bitch.”

Ron guffawed but stopped suddenly, “wait, how did you know I wasn’t telling you that I love you when I was asking about Goyle?”

“You would never make something about you about someone else,” Kurt shook his head, “You would have told me not to lead him on, you would have probably told me I could do better- you’re protecting someone and I find it quite admirable.”

“Admirable? Ronald?” Hermione quirked a curious brow, “now I’ve heard it all.”

“I heard it all a long time ago,” Oma smiled, raising her glass of amber liquid in salute of herself, “it’s been a great one.”

“No toasting those who’ve left us behind in the house,” his father shouted.

“And spill perfectly good bourbon?” Oma gaped, “you must have me confused with your father.” Pa smiled in his seat, the image of a 1920’s gentleman.

“What are you two grinning about?” Harry scowled at them.

“Ron’s rooting for someone,” Kurt smiled, picking up his flute of Champagne and bringing it to his lips, “he’s picked his horse and is betting it all on them.”

“Who?” Hermione quirked a curious brow.

“I’m not telling,” Ron smirked, “but my guess is that they’ll win.”

“Aren’t we arrogant,” Hermione tilted her head in surprise, “because my money is on the man who stood on a table in the great hall and declared himself a Hummelsexual.”

“Really?” Ron furrowed his brow, “Terry is probably in last place, he spent too long as an undecided.” He took a flute from Hermione and cautiously sipped at it, smiling at the taste, “Goyle is miles ahead of him. Rugby body and he has Kurt’s name tattooed on his chest.”

“Who told you about that?” Kurt and Hermione chorused in surprise.

“Tracey,” he said as if it was obvious, “she was helping me with my transfiguration homework and she was explaining the practical uses of some of the stuff we learn.”

“What does that have to do with Goyle’s ‘Kurt’ tattoo?” Harry asked, “that seems to be a little… unrelated.”

“Tattoos are a type of transmutation,” Ron, Hermione and Kurt chorused with an eyeroll.

“All magical print is a type transfiguration,” Kurt smiled politely, “that’s part of how they get it to move.”

“Even Ron’s smarter than me now?” Harry gaped.

“Heavens no,” Hermione and Kurt chorused.

“Ron hasn’t been to a follow up session with Tracey,” Kurt shook his head, “she’s the fourth smartest person in our year, less than two percent behind Hermione Granger.”

“All six of us are within a five percent margin of each other,” Hermione smirked, “including your girlfriend and that isn’t doing you any favours.”

“Kurt has made you a hurtful person,” Harry shook his head.

Kurt gasped, “Me? How am I responsible for Hermione being a hurtful person?”

“Damned if I know,” Harry shrugged, “I just felt like blaming you.”

Kurt tilted his head in confusion, “Is this because I’ve put all my hopes and dreams into you because you’re The Boy Who Lived?”

“Something like that,” Harry chuckled.

“Who wants to join me outside for a quick smoke?”

“You can count me in,” Hermione smirked, “it is Christmas, consider this your gift.”

“Worst Gift Ever.”


	13. Chapter 13

Kurt and Hermione sat on the stairs leading up to the front door of Number Thirteen Grimmauld Place, shoulder to shoulder and blowing smoke in each other’s faces. Kurt took a polite sip of his champagne and shook his head with a giggle, “We are the personification of all that is wrong with the world.”

“There are death eaters, racist and sexists in the world,” Hermione furrowed her brow in confusion, “How are we what is wrong with the world?”

“We should be spending this time with our families but here we are with the person we spend most of our lives with,” Kurt shook his head, “Oma came all the way from Alsace-Lorreine to be with me and here I am, smoking and drinking with Hermione Granger.”

“It could be worse,” Hermione shrugged, “we could be Hipster Weasley.”

“Harsh,” Kurt chuckled, “I’m ambivalent to the young man but I wouldn’t take it that far.”

“He’s definitely worse than us,” Hermione assured him.

“I’m not going to defend Hipster Weasley to you,” Kurt shook his head, “I shouldn’t have to defend him at all. He’s your friend’s brother.”

“You’re the one who was having a deep meaningful conversation with Ronald, he’s as much your friend as he is mine.”

“I meant Ginny,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “but I’m still not defending him.”

“I’m right here,” Charlie’s velvety voice interjected.

The pair exchanged a look, “why are you here?”

“Because he’s worse than us,” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“I’m legally old enough to smoke,” Charlie smirked, “I’m not the one braking the law.”

“Hermione is old enough to smoke,” Kurt countered, “and it’s not like it’s going to kill us any less because we’ve been around the sun a few more times.” Kurt took a deep pull of his cigarette, “and I’m unwittingly defending you and I don’t even know why you’re worse than we are.”

“Because he’s out here with us, whom he barely knows, instead of with his mother whom he almost never sees,” Hermione glared at Charles, “you didn’t come all the way back from Bulgaria to spend Christmas with the two of us.”

“He works in Romania,” Kurt corrected.

“Same difference.”

“Someone has Viktor on the brain,” Kurt giggled.

“Imagine how distracting it must be to have four boyfriends,” Hermione smirked.

“Who has four boyfriends?” Hermione pointed a finger in Kurt’s direction as a response to Charles’s question. The young man gaped at him, “you have four boyfriends?”

“I have no boyfriends,” Kurt shook his head, “Hermione is exaggerating.”

“How is the jump from zero to four an exaggeration?” He knitted his brow, “That sounds more like a lie.”

“I have multiple suitors vying for my affections,” Kurt shrugged, “her exaggeration is how friendly I am with them.”

“Right,” Hermione rolled her eyes, “because you’re keeping it chaste.”

“If I wasn’t,” Kurt glared at her, “I would have told you about it.”

“I know,” Hermione smirked, “I’m just messing with Hipster Weasley’s mind.”

“Do you two give everyone nicknames?”

“It was Kurt who christened you,” Hermione pointed out.

Kurt shrugged, “I called my roommates ‘Dumb, Dumber and Obnoxious’. It was a step up from how Hermione distinguished you before.”

“I called him something before Hipster Weasley?”

“In third year,” Kurt tried to be discreet but Hermione failed to pick up on his wavelength. Kurt turned to Charles, “she used to call you ‘Biceps’.”

“Oh my gosh,” Hermione giggled, “I remember that.”

“How is ‘Hipster’ a step up from ‘Biceps’?” the young man shook his head, Kurt noticed the slight flex of his arms.

“Why do other men do that?” Kurt furrowed his brow, “Gregory does the exact same thing, flexing his biceps when they’re mentioned.”

“Is Gregory one of your boyfriends?”

“We’ve discussed this already,” Kurt glared, “Gregory is not my boyfriend, I have no boyfriend.”

“Say more babes,” Hermione scoffed.

“I just want Hipster Weasley to tell me why he flexes when we mention his biceps,” and as Kurt mentioned them, Charles flexed his arms, “see, he just did it again.”

“The same reason you arch your back when Terry mentions your bottom,” Hermione answered before Charles could form an argument, “the way you smile whenever anyone mentions how pretty your smile is, or how you always adjust your glasses when someone notices them.”

 “Oh Hermione,” Kurt smirked, “are you coming on to me?”

“You’ve known how I’ve felt about you for years,” Hermione chuckled, “I only wish you’d declare yourself a Granger-sexual and be done with it.”

“Say more babes,” Kurt smirked.

“I fucking hate you.”

“Great,” Kurt smiled broadly, “let’s go destroy Harry Potter’s world view.”

“Why are we always trying to eat happiness?”

“Because we can,” Kurt shrugged.

“Before we go,” Hermione turned to Charlie and wrinkled her nose, “You smell like an old boot.”

“Wow,” Charlie chuckled, “thank you for telling me that.”

“No offence,” she shrugged dismissively.

“I don’t know why you would think I would be offended by that.”

“Okay girls,” Kurt patted them each on the head condescendingly, “play nice.”

“I’ve been nothing but nice,” Charlie protested, “And in return I’ve been called the worst, been talked about as if I wasn’t here, had my mind messed with, been condescended to and been told I smell like old shoes.”

“An old boot,” Hermione corrected, “Like worn leather.”

“That’s not helping your case,” Kurt shook his head.

“My case?” Hermione gaped at him.

“I’ve done nothing wrong,” Kurt smirked, “I’m practically perfect in every way.”

“Whatever,” Hermione shook her head, “let’s go.” 

“Are you just going to leave me here?” Charles called after them, “Maybe I want to eat happiness too.”

“Then find some evil overlords your own age and go eat happiness with them,” Kurt stuck out his tongue.

“You’re really obsessed with age,” Charles called as Kurt shut the door behind himself, “it’s just a number.”

“That’s what all the old people say,” Kurt pursed his lips. He and Hermione made their way downstairs to the bar and charged their champagne flutes, “You boys should come upstairs with us, we need to have a lady chat.”

“We’re not ladies,” Harry countered.

“Sluts are welcome too,” Kurt rolled his eyes.

“How am I a slut?” Harry furrowed his brow, “I have a steady girlfriend, not four suitors.”

“Just follow me and be quiet,” Kurt shook his head, “and I will punch you in the throat.”

“Don’t you mean or?”

“I said what I said.”

“Am I going to get punched in the throat for following you?” Harry furrowed his brow, “Because I don’t want to be punched in the throat.”

“Then I’d suggest being quiet,” Hermione rolled her eyes as they climbed toward the second landing.

“This is a lot of house,” Ron marvelled before catching himself, “I don’t have to be quiet, do I?”

“No,” Kurt smiled, “you’re good for now.”

“This place is like number twelve but cleaner, a lot cleaner,” Ron looked around each landing as they climbed to the second floor, “Like you bleached it.”

“We didn’t think dark walls worked in a space with so little natural lighting,” Kurt smiled as he led them toward his bedroom door, “you are about to enter hallowed ground, my father’s been in here like twice since I turned seven and this is his house; one of those times was because I shouted at a toddler. One other non-Finn person has been up here.”

Hermione raised a challenging brow, “and it wasn’t Cedric Diggory.”

“I can hear Kurt now,” Ron rolled his eyes, “asking if to want to do this now, in front of the children.””

“Ron gets me.”

“How have I never been in here?” Hermione glared at him, changing the subject.

“We’re just going to ignore the fact that Kurt shouted at a toddler?” Harry gaped.

Kurt shrugged, “it’s a personal sanctum, I like to keep it to myself.”

“It’s so white,” Ron rubbed his eyes to adjust to the bright room, “And so much nicer than my room.”

“I have better taste,” Kurt smirked, “I don’t consider a poster of the Chudley Cannons to be interior decorating.”

“But giant portraits of yourself are?”

Kurt’s smile matched that of the portrait, “Of course.”

“I’m ready to be punched in the throat,” Harry tilted his head backward and winced in anticipation, “lady chat away.”

“Okay,” Kurt smiled broadly, “I wanted to wait till we were all together before I delivered my update, you guys always manage to lose something in communication.”

“By ‘you guys’ he means you Harry,” Ron shook his head bashfully, “You have difficulty listening and communicating.”

“I hear perfectly well,” Harry countered.

“You just proved Ron and I’s point,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “neither of us mentioned your ability to hear, we’re critiquing your listening skills; two different things.”

“Yeah,” Harry rolled his right back, “we all embellish when we pass on knowledge and tell it to our liking, I got one handjob in the library and you make it seem like it’s Lisa and I’s spot.”

“Handjob Harry has a point,” Hermione smirked.

“We’re getting side tracked and people will be asking after us soon,” Kurt squared his shoulders, “Harry.”

“Yes,” the Boy Who Lived’s voice shook.

“I have discovered through my unwavering excellence what Sirius and the Order believe Lord Voldermort is after,” a chilling silence swept Kurt’s bedroom, “it’s a prophecy, they store records of them in the Hall of Prophecies which is part of the Department of Mysteries; where Mr Weasley was attacked.”

“A prophecy?”

“Yes,” Kurt nodded, “it’s the reason he came to your parents’ home that Halloween.” Kurt took a deep steadying breath, “he believed you to be party to the prophecy, that’s why he came and that’s why your parents were in hiding.”

“It was me?” Harry looked like he would burst into tears at any moment.

“That’s how he chose to read it,” Kurt nodded, “and in doing so he made it about you.”

Ron knitted his brow, “If he knows the prophecy, why does he want the record?”

“I suspect that he wants to study it, learn how to defeat Harry from it,” Kurt shrugged, “Since his return the Dark Lord has become fixated with Harry, as if your existence challenges his authority or power- it almost seems as if he cares more about you than he does about pureblood supremacy.”

“Do you know what the prophecy says?” Hermione tried to sound hopeful.

Kurt shook his head and Harry sucked in a long breath, “So I’m the Chosen One?”

“No, not ever again!” Kurt snapped, “This isn’t a matter of being chosen, we have worked too hard to give you a choice for you to resign yourself to being the Chosen One.” Kurt grabbed Harry’s hands, “Remember that part of the reason I took your place during the final task was to give you a choice in whether you would be everyone’s hero.”

“Is it ever a choice?” Harry scoffed.

Hermione laid her hands over their joined hands, “Your moral fibre may leave only one choice as valid for you, but the choice allows you to hold equal stake as every other member of the resistance.”

“Being the chosen one lays the fate of every witch, wizard and muggle on your shoulders,” Kurt explained, “it makes every decision you make immensely important and that’s not fair.”

“But why Harry?” Ron shook his head.

“I think it has to do with his birthday,” Kurt shrugged, “because Professor Dumbledore shut down the conversation when I mentioned what happened to Neville’s parents as being linked to what happened to your parents; you were both born at the end of July.”

“They also both have parents who were part of the Order of the Phoenix,” Hermione pointed out.

“Well there goes my theory for including myself,” Kurt shrugged.

“How is May the same thing as July?” Ron furrowed his brow.

“July is the seventh month in the Gregorian calendar,” Kurt rolled his eyes as if it were the most obvious thing, “my birthday fell during Rajab, the seventh month of the Hijri calendar.”

“You really want to feel special and included,” Hermione scoffed.

“No,” Ron shook his head, “Kurt is onto something.”

Hermione gaped at the ginger haired boy, “is this the day humanity ceases to exist? Will the sun fall and be feasted on by the fowls?”

“I’m allowed to agree with Kurt,” Ron crossed his arms, “I’m making a choice.”

“No,” Hermione rolled her eyes, “I mean anyone following Kurt’s train of thought and me failing.” She shook her head, “not when he’s making sense. This hurts me more than you can imagine, please explain.”

Ron squared his shoulders with pride, “Kurt is increasing the people whom the prophecy could apply to, that way there are more people who can defeat him.”

“I won’t have anyone taking my place,” Harry shook his head.

“It hasn’t been your place for a while,” Kurt shook his head with a jovial giggle, “This prophecy has been contaminated for quite some time.” Kurt vibrated with excitement, “if it is pertinent to the ability vanquish the Dark Lord in direct combat-”

“You did it in the Chamber of Secrets,” Harry gasped.

“You two are speeding,” Ron interjected, “Before Kurt gets too excited and winds up dead, or Harry falls into a depressive mess because Kurt is in danger, we need to hear the prophecy.”

“This is fair,” Kurt nodded.

“You really lived up to your word,” Harry sulked, “You ate happiness on Christmas day.”

“That was the good news,” Kurt chuckled, “but depending on how you look at things, it’s all good news.”

“How is knowing that my parents died for me good news?”

“Because that’s what you do for the people you love,” Kurt gave a sad smile, “that’s what a parent does for a child. Take it from me, my mother died so I could live and there is nothing you can do to repay that sacrifice but live your life as you wish.”

“Deep,” Hermione shook her head.

Kurt smiled, “If my hunch is correct, then your parents went into hiding to keep you from that prophecy. Don’t bind yourself to it, don’t limit your choices.”

Harry rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “hit me with the ‘other good news’.”

“I’m a step closer to finding the deplorable word,” Kurt smiled proudly, “I’m chronicling it in my journal, my account of The Second Wizarding War.”

“So that other people can find what you say Rowena Ravenclaw described as a horror?” Ron gaped.

“So that future generations can understand magic and this period better,” Hermione explained, rolling her eyes on his behalf, “I’m keeping records in my journal as well.”

“Am I the only one who isn’t keeping a diary?” Ron glared at them.

“In my defence, I’ve been keeping a diary for as long as I’ve been able to write,” Kurt held his hands up defensively.

“You’re getting distracted,” Harry interjected, “Kurt just said he’s closer to finding a spell that kills every living thing on the planet but the caster.”

“You did your reading,” Kurt smiled broadly, “but if you recall I said it kills whomever hears it, and I know better than CS Lewis.”

“Really,” Harry quirked an unimpressed brow, “you want to claim to know better than the man who discovered the actual spell?”

Kurt smirked, “Check my flow; I have one thing that Clive Lewis didn’t, an understanding of magic.” Kurt smirked smugly, “Clive was explaining a time when a large number of people and most of the vegetation died in an area, and then it got very cold.”

“Oh my shit!”

“That could easily be confused for everything dying as the result of a single person’s actions by somebody who doesn’t know the period of time over which this mass dying happened,” Kurt explained, “I, on the other hand, know more. I have linked the deplorable word with the creation of dementors, which accounts for the people who died and the cold weather that killed the plants.”

“For every time you’ve said ‘Hermione Granger’ like it was some kind of badge of honour for knowing me,” Hermione shook her head, “I’m going to say it in return, Kurt Elizabeth Motherfucking Hummel!”

“Thank you,” Kurt blushed.

“Wait, you want to turn Voldemort into a dementor?” Harry furrowed his brow.

“That’s where it gets complicated,” Kurt shrugged, “by my understanding, the deplorable word acts in a manner similar to the dementor’s kiss but with more power.” Kurt crossed his arms and pursed his lips as he allowed what he was saying to permeate, “It moves beyond stealing one’s soul and steals your magical essence as well, leaving the remaining body twisted into a what is today known as a dementor. The dementor’s kiss leaves the magical essence and body intact, being only a cause of death.”

“I don’t understand,” Ron shook his head.

“You shouldn’t,” Kurt shook his head, “It’s all speculation at this point but based on the rebirthing spell I witnessed we know that Lord Voldermort’s body was destroyed the Halloween Harry got his scar, all that remained was his magical essence and his soul-”

“So the deplorable word would destroy all that and leave nothing to allow him to return,” Harry gasped.

“Because under normal circumstances, magical force isn’t destroyed, it remains as an untapped energy in the universe because it is bound to a single soul,” Kurt explained.

“The law of conservation of matter?” Hermione gasped.

“Yes,” Kurt nodded, “This spell will theoretically allow us to sever that bond, he won’t be able to create doorways back into this world using cursed objects like Tom Riddle’s diary.”

“The diary was a portal from the other side?” Hermione furrowed her brow.

“Damned if I know,” Kurt shrugged.

“He said he was a memory,” Harry explained, “stored in the diary.”

“Fine,” Kurt shook his head, “Whatever it is, is less likely to work when his soul and his magical essence have been separated from each other, and his body.”

“Why haven’t we looked into Tom Riddle’s diary?” Ron furrowed his brow.

“Kurt destroyed it,” Harry shrugged.

“Yes,” Ron nodded, “He cut it in half with the sword of Gryffindor and sprayed the room.”

“Really Ron?”

“Sorry,” the boy shrunk for a moment, “but we don’t know what it is, we don’t know if there is another. Why haven’t you gotten curious and gone to the library?”

“I don’t care about Tom Riddle’s diary,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “I can’t bring myself to care enough to look into it. Slytherin’s monster is dead, the Chamber of Secrets isn’t a threat.”

“If you say so,” Ron shrugged, “if you say it doesn’t matter, seems kind of important though.”

“We’re getting distracted and I’m almost certain Finn is going to be sent up to get us any second because Ron’s father just got out of St Mungo’s and we’re supposed to care,” Hermione snapped, “We need to discern whether Kurt’s Hunch-theory-understanding hybrid is worth our energy. How did you come to this… inclination?”

“It’s a combination of my understanding of physical science, the dark arts and magical theory,” Kurt gave a self-satisfied smile, “add in some speculation, my dreams and history, and it all just flows into each other.”

“History?” Hermione quirked a curious brow.

“Haim Black, former Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and Deputy Minister for Magic during the term of Minister Victor Parkinson,” Kurt fixed an imaginary stray hair, “told me quite a bit about his era and his love affair with Minister for Magic George Waisenhaus.”

“Why would he tell you that?” Ron furrowed his brow.

Kurt shrugged, “I have a very inviting face.”

“You really do not,” Ron shook his head, “you’re pretty but like scary pretty.”

“Thank you,” Kurt smiled, “I put work into it.” He preened for a moment before pulling himself toward himself, “it’s easy to get a Slytherin to talk about themselves, the key is the ability to direct that conversation- at which I excel.”

There was a knock on the door, “And that’s all we have time for.” Hermione gestured for the boys to leave, “give us a moment.”

“You have more to say to me?” Kurt furrowed his brow, “I thought we covered everything before Hipster Weasley’s interruption.”

“This is new,” Hermione leaned in close and spoke in a whisper, “I think your memory has been tampered with.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because finding out more about Tom Riddle’s diary used to matter to you,” Hermione whispered and looked around the room as if she was paranoid, “after the incidents of the Chamber of Secrets up to the beginning of third year you researched the matter quite extensively, you even had theories.”

“I guess I got distracted by boys,” Kurt nodded solemnly, then shrugged dismissively, “I know.”

“You know?”

Kurt smiled broadly and shook his head, “I’ve known from when it first happened.”

Horror flashed across Hermione’s face, “Why haven’t you told me?”

“Professor Dumbledore did it,” Kurt shook his head, “none of you would have wanted to believed me.”

“Don’t say that,” Hermione shook her head.

Kurt matched the action, “Three years ago, the first meeting of the muggle activities club, would you’ve been willing to hear it?”

“Probably not,” Hermione bowed her head in shame, “I only cared about you and Cedric at the time.” Hermione put her head in her hands, “I would’ve thought you were lying.”

“It’s more of a reflection on the man than on you,” Kurt flashed a sad smile, “I didn’t blame you for it.”

“I wish you’d told me,” Hermione shook her head.

“The only other person who knows about the memory tampering,” Kurt grabbed his closest friend’s hand, “isn’t in my life anymore.”

“Touché.”

~0~

_Le Château d’Hiver de la Famille Noire._

_08th March 989AD_

_03:25PM._

“Rowena,” Haim rose to his feet and greeted his friend with a kiss on each cheek, “darling, how are you?”

“I’m well,” she looked her friend over and grinned, “You look well.”

“I just finished a fat flush,” Haim smirked, “I lost ten pounds.”

Rowena pinched at his buttocks, “I think I’ve found it.”

“Don’t be salty,” the man reprimanded her.

“I’m sorry,” she blushed as she took her seat, “I couldn’t help myself.”

“How unlike you,” Haim scoffed, “I’m sure your father is turning in his grave.”

“My father is still alive,” Rowena smirked.

“Will be,” Haim rolled his eyes as he gestured for the diminutive house elf to serve their tea, “I’m casting my eye into the future.”

“Sure you are,” Rowena shot the man a reproachful look.

Haim shook his head, “at the very least he’s dead to me.”

“Haim,” her tone was reproachful, “That is my father.”

“It was my turn to tease,” he smiled at his friend, “no matter how handsome Rowen Ravenclaw is.”

Rowena gasped, supressing a full-on guffaw and swatting playfully at the air between them, “that wink was completely uncalled for, go fornicate with somebody else’s father.”

“Been there,” Haim scoffed, “Done that.”

“You’re actually quite vile,” Rowena shook her head, “and to think I almost made you my husband.”

“We could have had fun with that,” Haim shook his head at the lost opportunity, “but I guess we just have to live with what we have now.”

“And what exactly is that?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you?” Haim quirked a curious brow, “We both know what my life is like.”

“Ah yes,” Rowena smirked, “Orgies with George and Godric. Is the letter ‘G’ some kind of fetish for you?”

“That’s quite enough from you,” Haim wagged a reproachful finger at her, “Just because your friend Godric is light in the loafers, doesn’t mean we’re acquainted.” He sipped his tea slowly, “Us same-sex oriented gentlemen don’t all know each other.”

“Of course not,” Rowena shook her head with false remorse, “I apologise.”

“So,” The sandy haired man smiled over the brim of his teacup, “how are things?”

“I think I’m in love with him,” his friend smiled with doe eyes.

Haim smirked, “I was asking about the school, Rowena.”

“Well, considering we were talking about main squeezes,” Rowena shrugged, “it was an easy mistake to make.”

“We’ll get back to that, babes,” Haim assured her head, “for now let’s talk business.”

She giggled and it was like a silver bell, “oh yes, the school’s going well. We’ve put in a significant amount of work and I’ve designed a castle, not unlike this one, that is currently under construction.”

“So you’ll be ready to open soon,” Haim smirked, “ready to begin hiring staff and taking in students.”

“That’s where we’ve come to a clash,” Rowena rolled her eyes, “Helga and Godric feel that we should gear the curriculum more to building good character, Salazar and I feel that we should focus more on the academic spheres.”

“Is it a school or a parent?” Haim scoffed, “Your focus should be the academic sphere of things. Part of the reason I told George to commission the creation of standardised education was to diminish the bond between magical knowledge and character, not after what happened with Anais Haddad-Schmidt.”

“That was my point exactly,” Rowena nodded, “I don’t want to get too deep into the politics of what was my school without asking you about your working life.”

“Things at the ministry are going well,” Haim smiled broadly, “Splendidly actually.”

“Really?” Rowena eyed her closest friend suspiciously, “because on my birthday you seemed to believe that your career was about to go up in flames.”

“I’ve re-established a new equilibrium,” Haim shrugged nonchalantly.

“You just made peace with Victor Parkinson?” Rowena scoffed, “now I’ve heard it all. That man is more stubborn than a mule, and considering the things he said about you.”

“And hung like a mule,” Haim chortled, putting an end to that discussion.

“I beg your pardon?”

“My darling Rowena,” Haim flashed an impish grin, “you don’t get as far as I have in life without knowing how to deal with men.”

“I haven’t gotten as far as you have,” Rowena pointed out, “I’ve been demoted to a glorified baby sitter, remember?”

“That’s because you don’t have the same way with people I do,” Haim grinned malevolently.

“Haim, no,” Rowena shook her head, “Not Victor.”

“Yes Victor,” Haim nodded.

“Are there any men left who prefer the company of woman?”

“Well,” Haim shrugged, “You’re the one who’s in love, you tell me.”

“I shan’t risk you and that golden tongue.”

“My tongue only became involved after we came to terms,” Haim quirked a suggestive brow.

“Haim,” Rowena feigned shock, “what have you done?”

“I can only tell you that George isn’t running for another term as Minister for Magic,” Haim preened in his own glory, “he will endorse Victor as his successor and myself as Deputy Minister.”

“And you’re already intimately engaged with the boss?”

“Some people might frown at how I got to the top,” Haim shrugged and sipped his tea, “History will only remember that I got to the top.”

“Proud words from a bottom.”

“Rowena,” Haim exclaimed, choking on his tea.

Rowena grinned, “I’m only being honest.”

“You don’t know my story,” Haim snapped back indignantly.

“I know your story,” Rowena retorted, “isn’t that why I was the perfect bride?”

“Oh babes,” Haim shook his head, “you over estimate yourself, there is no such thing as a perfect bride for me. You were my preferred bride, given that you might be my only true friend.”

“How heart-warming,” Rowena rolled her eyes, “but if you stopped sleeping your way to the top you might make more friends.”

“What? Work my way to the middle like you did?” Haim scoffed, “And another thing, I didn’t sleep my way to the top; any old tit can sleep, I fucked my way to the top.”

“Language!” Rowena exclaimed, shocked by how her uptight friend had loosened up, “I don’t know what Viktor is doing in the bedroom but it has changed you.”

“Not just in the bedroom,” Haim smirked, “in the office, the garden room, the carriage… anywhere he can get his hands on me.”

“I’m sure his wife is chuffed to hear that,” Rowena scorned him.

“I’m surprised at you Rowena,” Haim reclined in his seat, “I never took you for a hypocrite.”

“Me?” Rowena scoffed, “a hypocrite?”

“Why, yes,” Haim pursed his lips, “Considering Salazar is married as well.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Rowena shook her head.

“Salazar Slytherin,” Haim shook his head, “the man who gave you the diadem that sits on your head, the man you think you’re in love with.” He leaned forward and whispered the last part, “has a wife.”

“How do you know I was talking about him?”

“I don’t just stick my mouth everywhere,” Haim shook his head, “I’ve also got ears everywhere.”

“He has a wife?” Rowena gasped.

“Yes,” he nodded solemnly, “Oestara Prewett.”

“Why wouldn’t he tell me this?”

“Because men are greedy,” Haim shook his head, “He wanted to have you both as his own.”

“I should have known,” Rowena shook her head, “I’m so stupid.”

“You just saw the man through Rose Coloured glasses,” Haim assured his friend.

“I’m supposed to be wise, intelligent,” she began to sob, “yet I let myself be played by a man of moderate intelligence.”

“Don’t feel bad,” Haim tried to be assuring but his friend was seething, “that Salazar is a smoothy, a slippery serpent of a man.” Haim took Rowena’s hand in both of his, “I hear he’s begun looking into the Dark Arts, so he’s had us all fooled.”

“Yes,” Rowena snapped, snatching her hand away, “but none of you are pregnant with his child.”

Haim pursed his lips, “Oh dear.”

“Yes,” Rowena pursed her lips, “oh, dear.”

~0~

Hermione, Kurt and Mandy walked arm in arm up the castle staircase toward the Room of Requirement for a post-Christmas meeting, they were catching up on their festive season activities.

“Have you two seen Izzy’s septum piercing?” Mandy chuckled.

“Izzy?” Hermione furrowed her brow, “Meek, doesn’t talk to anyone Isobel MacDougal?”

“That’s not even her real name,” Kurt rolled his eye.

“Morag, Whatever!” Hermione rolled her eyes, “We’re all talking about the same meek girl, right?”

“Her,” Mandy chuckled, “she came back after Christmas and she had a whole new look.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen her since she’s been back,” Hermione shook her head.

“She’s beyond recognition,” Mandy chuckled, “she looks like a coked-up seventies Rockstar, but in a cool way.”

“That doesn’t sound possible,” Kurt scoffed.

“She looks like drugs, Lenny Kravitz and an attractive homeless person had a baby,” Mandy smiled.

“You’ve been working on your muggle studies,” Kurt smiled, “but that sounds like a really cool look but I can’t imagine it on little Izzy.”

“Believe it,” Mandy assured him, “I think she realised her boobs were never coming in and quit wearing bras, and it liberated her.”

“What do her boobs have to do with anything?” Hermione crossed her arms over her chest defensively.

“Mandy seems to think that everything comes down to nungu-nungus, just because hers are amazing,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “I’m sure her choice to stop wearing a bra was a consequence of whatever catalysed her change in appearance.”

“Like what? She became a bra burning feminist?” Mandy smirked, “If there is one thing we know about our darling Lizzy, it’s that she doesn’t have the depth for a life changing epiphany.”

“Harsh,” Kurt smirked, “true, but harsh.”

“You’ve barely spoken two words to her in five years,” Hermione shook her head, “I doubt you have a leg to stand on in her judgement.”

“There is very good reason why I haven’t spoken to her,” Kurt rolled his eyes as if it were the most obvious thing, “Name one Ravenclaw in the top ten of our year I don’t speak to.” There was a silent moment, “I just don’t have much in common with Ravenclaw students that fall after the NOut.”

“The NOut?” Hermione furrowed her brow and looked to Mandy, who simply rolled her eyes, “Am I missing something?”

“NOut,” Mandy let out a tired breath, “the first person in a year who will potentially have no Outstanding OWLs.”

“In our year it’s Hannah Abbot,” Kurt clarified, “She’s eleventh.”

“You two always manage to out snob yourselves,” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“I would expect that attitude from a Gryffindor outlier,” Mandy rolled her eyes.

“I know,” Kurt shook his head at his best friend, “right?”

“Don’t bring that snobbishness in my direction,” Hermione shook her head, “I have been top of my year consistently.”

“Well,” Mandy shook her head, “not consistently.”

Hermione glared at the dark haired, busty girl, “I beg your pardon?”

“Second year,” Mandy explained, “You were third.”

“I was petrified,” Hermione gasped, “I can’t believe you’d hold that against me.”

“For all of two days,” Mandy scoffed, “Don’t make grand sweeping statements if you won’t stand by them. It simply isn’t sensible.”

“You want to talk to me about sense and sensibility?” Hermione scoffed, “this from a girl dating a boy who would rather be with me!”

“Hermione Jean Granger!” Kurt interjected, “we don’t say that kind of thing, ever! Don’t make me bring up the fact that I am Neville’s first choice just to knock you off your high horse.” Kurt straightened his robes, “Mandy is obviously in the right in this instance, you haven’t been first consistently.”

“I wish you’d both leave my boyfriend out of this,” Mandy shook her head, “Neville and I will probably have children together some day and I would hate for you to tell them you were almost their mother.”

“Children?” Kurt quirked a brow, “Mandy, are you pregnant?”

“No,” she rolled her eyes, “I have an IUD.”

“Wait,” Hermione clutched her chest and grinned broadly, “You have an IUD? as in you’re having sex with Neville Longbottom?”

“I didn’t say that!”

“But if you weren’t, then your response would have been ‘we’re not having sex’,” Kurt explained, “but instead you chose to tell us you used contraceptives.”

“Still doesn’t prove anything.”

“I can’t wait to rub this in Harry and Ron’s faces,” Kurt smirked, clapping his hands jovially, “there is a god after all.”

“You do know what this means?” Hermione looked up at him with large, wet eyes.

“That other than you and Viktor’s finger-bang escapade, Neville and Mandy are the first of us to have sex?”

“That can’t be true,” Mandy shook her head, “I heard Cedric deflowered you on the Astronomy tower.”

“That is a salacious rumour started by Hermione Granger,” Kurt shook his head.

“So, Cedric died a virgin,” Mandy’s voice broke, “that makes his death so much sadder.”

“Don’t cry for him Mandy,” Hermione’s tone was soft and assuring, “cry for Kurt who didn’t get his shot.”

“I was going to do it that day,” Kurt heard himself confess, “then he died. I’ve never told anyone that, but then again, who do you tell?”

“Dark,” Mandy shook her head.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Hermione laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, “He told Viktor you were great at oral.”

“Of course I’m great at oral,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “Oma sent very well detailed instructions.”

“She did what?” Hermione gasped.

“Ask Harry Potter.”

Hermione gasped louder, “you gave oral to Harry Potter?”

“Heavens no,” Kurt’s eyebrows shot up, “Why would you say something so awful?”

“That’s my friend’s boyfriend!” Mandy interjected.

“I stand by what I said,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “He read the letter.”

“Lisa was so sure he wasn’t gay,” Mandy smirked, shaking her head.

“He was supposed to be reading the next section,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “I may be many things but I am neither Lisa, Ginny or Luna; my interest in Harry Potter is purely platonic.”

“That’s a lie and we all know it,” Mandy shook her head, “You also have an academic curiosity.”

“Fair,” Kurt shrugged.

“But seeing as you brought my boyfriend into this-”

“Speaking of Neville,” Hermione interjected, “He-”

“If this has anything to do with your intimate knowledge of him I will punch you in the throat,” Mandy glared at Hermione, “test me.”

“No,” Hermione shook her head, “I was just saying, thanks mostly to the confidence Kurt gave him, the fact that he’s dating you and Tracey’s tutoring he’s made a meteoric rise in our year’s academic ranks, he’ll probably cross the NOut and I’ll no longer be an outlier.”

Kurt and Mandy exchanged a begrudging look, “She’s right.”

“If she says she’s used to being correct I will punch her in the boob,” Mandy rolled her eyes.

“I would support this endeavour,” Kurt nodded.

“Fine,” Hermione mimed zipping her lips.

“As I was saying before I was so very rudely interrupted, and before we get to the Room of Requirement,” Mandy stopped them on their final landing, “Why the Desire of Suitors?”

“What?”

“Well,” Mandy shrugged, “I watched you and Cedric being adorable, it was disgusting, I was so jealous, that person isn’t the kind of person to lead on several gentleman.” She furrowed her brow, “I personally hate Terry but…”

“Even he doesn’t deserve this?” Kurt shrugged and shook his head, “because Cedric was perfect and none of them really measured up. Cedric died before he could do anything to ruin my perception of him, they all have great qualities but I can see their flaws.” Kurt’s shoulders slumped and he let out a tired breath, “the fact that they’re going along with this farce being one of them, Cedric was driven crazy by the idea of me going on a date with Terry and that was before we even started dating. They feel closer to filling his place as a sum than as individuals.”

“That’s… a pretty shitty thing to do,” Mandy gaped at him, “I’m a colossal bitch and even I know that’s wrong.”

“I hate to do it but I agree with Mandy,” Hermione smiled shyly, “she is a colossal bitch.”

“Hey!”

“Kurt isn’t stringing anyone along,” Hermione took a step forward, “Kurt doesn’t have any malicious intent, he’s mourning and he’s showing his interest in the best way he can.”

“Fair,” Mandy nodded.

“And he’s been transparent with everyone,” Hermione defended him vehemently and Kurt couldn’t help smiling, “he isn’t leading anyone one on.”

“Thank you,” Kurt smiled sadly, “to both of you.”

“Both of us?” Hermione squealed as they started down the corridor once more, “my defence on you is on the same level as Mandy calling you slutty piece of shit?”

“Mandy,” Kurt turned to her, “Is it Amanda?”

“Miranda,” she corrected.

“Miranda Brocklehurst has a point in her attempt to eat happiness,” Kurt nodded to himself, “she was bold enough to say something despite the fact that I could murder her.”

“Oh, Neville told me,” Mandy nodded, “it’s a genetic thing, right?”

“You could say that,” Kurt and Hermione giggled in unison.

“Let’s get this lesson over with,” Hermione nodded toward the door to the Room of Requirement.

They walked into the large room to find it filled with seniors only, Harry Potter was standing in the centre of the room explaining to the group on the intimate details of the day’s lesson.

“Kurt,” the boy smiled at him.

“There’s chopped liver with him as well,” Mandy rolled her eyes and moved toward Neville, kissing him deeply as they entangled their limbs with each other.

“I like the taste of chopped liver,” Neville grinned, wagging his brow suggestively.

“You’re sweet,” Mandy smiled at him and Kurt’s stomach turned.

“Okay,” Kurt snapped his fingers to draw everyone’s attention, “I know I’m usually the one who promotes the academic history and intricacies of any spell but that doesn’t work for this one.”

Kurt put down his purse, “it’s literally the most counter intuitive magic I’ve interacted with, my attempt to master the patronus charm purely through academics was a dismal failure.”

“I can attest to that as a witness,” Ron chortled.

“Says the boy who can’t enchant his shoe laces not to come undone,” Kurt scoffed in return.

“Fair,” Ron smirked from where he’d been regaling Ming Prewett with tails of the great Prewett-Weasley dynasty, an attempt to get closer to his newly discovered cousin.

“It was when I taught my dear friend Neville Christopher Admetus Longbottom the spell that I realised that it rooted in the emotions that drive it,” Kurt smiled broadly, “After a ton of introspection I realised that I’m the best spellcaster in my year because I love learning and I love magic.”

“The only thing he loves more is himself,” Finn called out from the back of the room.

“You’ve all met me and it is impossible not to love me more than anything in existence,” Kurt chuckled, “So, here’s what it comes down to; you have to think of a happy memory, something that makes you so happy that you basically want to die because you’ll never be able to relive that moment.”

  “When you have that memory and you feel like you’re about to explode because you’re thinking of the first time ever you saw his face,” Kurt smiled and produced his wand, “you release that excess joy by waving your wand in a circular motion and saying the incantation.”

“Expecto patronum,” Kurt waved his wand over his head as if to lasso the sun.

Kurt was enveloped in flames made of white light that formed a vortex before exploding into a set of webbed wings, a long-spiked tail, ridged back of spikes and the origin of the the white flames, a large reptilian head with a crown of spikes. The white dragon flapped his wings and flew around the ceiling, shining brightly as he did so.

“That is fucking amazing,” Neville gaped, “I never took you for a dragon.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“I always thought you’d be your own patronus,” Neville shrugged.

“Like Professor McGonagall?”

Hermione furrowed her brow, “Professor McGonagall is her own patronus?”

“Her patronus is a cat identical to her animagus form,” Kurt said, speaking condescendingly, “did you pay no attention during the ninety-three, ninety-four academic year?”

“Some of us had better things to do,” Lisa giggled.

“Why?” Kurt furrowed his brow, “Harry Potter was giving himself handjobs back then.”

“Kurt!” Harry squealed, “you want to do this now? In front of the children?”

“You’ve been waiting forever to say that,” Hermione chuckled.

“We’re all still here,” Pavarti snapped, “we can leave and you can go back to… what I’m assuming is some kind of foreplay.”

“Padma Two is correct,” Kurt turned back to the group at large with a saccharine smile, “let’s do this.” He took a step forward and looked everyone in the eye at once, “make the memory strong and make sure it can stand up under scrutiny from your greatest doubts.”

His audience gave his words some thoughts, “When you’re ready, you know the incantation and you can go at any moment.”

Kurt watched as Finn and Padma linked pinkies and stepped forward; they waved their wands, said the incantation and kissed as the light bear and she-bear charged around the room over everyone’s heads. A display of their prowess and a public declaration of their love, one that made Kurt want to both hug and kick them.”

It didn’t take long for a number of light guardians to have filled the room, the more senior students taking less time to find their happy place and convert that into a patronus charm. Not every attempt had been successful at first but Kurt and those who had mastered the charm were making their way around the room, helping everyone produce some kind of patronus- corporeal or not.

“Kurt,” Denis called out as he stormed the room of requirement, stopping in his tracks to marvel at the mobile of light guardians.

“Denis,” Kurt snapped his fingers to get the boy’s attention, “What is it?”

“It’s happened,” the boy panted.

“Umbridge knows?” Kurt gaped, “no, we still have at least a month.”

“Not that ‘it’,” Denis shook his head, “the Dark Lord has made his first move.”

“How do you know this?” Kurt brought his hand up to cover his mouth. Denis handed him the afternoon edition of The Daily Prophet, “Oh no.”

“What is it?” Fred asked.

George stepped forward, “what has he done?”

“He’s broken into Azkaban,” Kurt’s voice shook.

Lisa shook her head in confusion, “why would anyone break _into_ a prison.”

“To break out his most loyal followers,” Harry shook his head, hugging a not very concerned Lisa.

Neville’s knees fell out from under him, forcing Mandy to steady him, “he went in for Bellatrix LeStrange.”

Lisa looked around the room, reading the tone of confusion, chose to speak for their audience, “Who is Bellatrix LeStrange?”

“A Death Eater,” Hermione explained.

“One of the Dark Lord’s most loyal followers,” Harry elaborated.

Neville got back to his feet, “she tortured my parents into insanity.”

“And she’s my mother.”


	14. Chapter 14

Denis’ small hand took Kurt’s larger one in his short fingers, and the younger boy smiled up at him, “it’ll be okay.”

“Indeed it will,” Kurt nodded, puffing out his chest and facing the shocked faces of his peers with falsified bravery, “if anything, this should serve to prove to many who were in doubt that what we’ve known for so long, is true.” Kurt gave a peppy clap of his hands, “we who’ve known have been preparing for this moment; this is when things are going to get scary and it is comforting to know that we can stand confident in the knowledge that we’ve prepared to the best of our ability, that we can defend not only ourselves but those we hold most dear.”

There was a resounding applause and the boys whistled their agreement. Mandy placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled, “Kurt is most correct, and we owe our preparedness to Harry, Hermione and Kurt especially. I do believe that regardless how far we’ve come, we’ve got so far to go.”

“Mandy’s right about how much we owe to Kurt,” Ron piped up, “my mum always told me to be brave but she was wrong.” The boy paused and scratched the back of his neck nervously, “It’s one thing when a brave man stands up and fights but it’s something special when a fearful man stands up to defend what is right. Kurt proves that.”

“Oh, wow,” Kurt smiled, clapping his hands, “I’m humbled by the kind words. Would anyone else like to shower me with praise?”

There was a round of laughter, cut short by Hermione raising a silencing hand, “Given the news, I think it would be best if we adjourned to practice in smaller groups. Least we draw attention to our mass and protracted absence.” There was a begrudging but affirmative moan, “could I have a word with leadership plus?”

Kurt nodded as he stood with Mandy’s head resting on his shoulder and Neville’s arms around the both of them as they waited to hear what Hermione had to say to them. Mandy lifted her head to whisper in Kurt’s ear, “Do you think this is to do with your little announcement?”

“I think she’s going to scold you two for starting the rumour that she’s dating Christopher Bembridge,” Luna shrugged as she leaned up against Kurt arm, “she was not happy to hear that rumour and violently told me they had not declared relationship status.”

“The little that they’ve done was enough to make Anthony Rickett move on to Tracey,” Kurt shrugged, hoping to shake off his hangers on.

“Anthony and Tracey?” Mandy scoffed, “How does she feel about being the second choice after?”

“She’s indifferent,” Kurt grinned, “she’s using him as a springboard to Theodore Knott.”

Mandy moaned, “Sexy.”

“Seconded,” Neville and Luna chorused.

Kurt rolled his eyes, “All of you get off me! Get off, get off, get off.”

“Wow,” Neville rolled his eyes, “I bet this wouldn’t happen if we had biceps.”

“Or if we were declared Hummelsexuals,” Luna moaned.

“I guess you’ll never know,” Kurt shrugged.

“Harsh.”

Mandy kissed the boy’s cheek, “Your biceps are perfect to me, babes.”

“Besides, declared or undeclared,” Kurt eyed his three friends who were hanging off him, “I know just what your orientation is.”

“If you’re quite done,” Hermione cocked her hip and quirked an expectant brow.

“Just a minute longer,” Mandy teased, “Kurt’s about to tell us what Luna dreams of.”

“Cute,” Hermione smirked, “But this’ll only take a minute.”

“Fine Granger,” Kurt rolled his eyes, delivering an expert impression of Pansy’s impassive tone.

“I think we need to figure out what more we can do to prepare ourselves and our peers for the Dark Lord’s next move,” Hermione spoke pointedly, “we need to be more proactive.”

“You’re calling him the Dark Lord,” Ron gushed, “Kurt said that would catch on.”

Kurt preened under the attention, “I’m often right and I have an eye for emerging trends, so this shouldn’t surprise anyone.”

“What would have surprised us is if you hadn’t taken the opportunity to gloat,” Lisa rolled her eyes.

“I was simply mentioning it in passing seeing as Ron brought it up.”

“I’m trying to conduct a meeting here,” Hermione cocked her hip.

“What do you have in mind?” Harry asked, trying to keep the conversation on track.

“I have no idea,” Hermione shrugged, “that’s why we’re having this chat, we need to brainstorm ideas.”

Luna cleared her throat before speaking, “Are we trying to formulate an offensive or defensive plan?”

“Don’t we already have a defensive plan?” Neville furrowed his brow.

“So what?” Ron mirrored Neville’s expression, “We’re taking the fight to them.”

“No,” Mandy shook her head, “That would not be wise at all under present circumstances, we’re not ready to launch a full scale attack.”

“Then what?”

“Let me save us all a lot of time,” Lisa rolled her eyes, “What does Kurt think we should do?”

“Wow Lisa,” Mandy giggled, “You’re not even going to pretend we were going to consider your idea as valid?”

“As the quote often incorrectly accredited to Einstein says; insanity is doing the same thing over and over, and expecting different results,” Lisa shrugged, playing with Harry’s hand in hers, “we’re playing ourselves if we think that we’re going to follow anyone’s plan but Kurt’s, or possibly Harry’s.”

“Hey,” Harry raised his hands in surrender.

Lisa leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, “I still love you baby.”

“So,” Harry turned to Kurt, “What will it be?”

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate,” Kurt began, “our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.”

“It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us,” Hermione continued.

Mandy rolled her eyes, “We ask ourselves; who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous?”

“Actually,” Neville kissed Mandy before he carried on with the quote, “Who are you not to be?”

“That’s often credited to Nelson Mandela,” Kurt explained, “Incorrectly so.”

“But Kurt says it so much that one might think it’s a Kurt Hummel quote,” Neville chuckled.

“He says it almost as much as he brings up the children,” Hermione elaborated.

Kurt shrugged, “I read it in a self-help book Dr Rhodes recommended.”

“Your point being what?” Lisa quirked a curious brow, “I’m not having a crisis of confidence.” She casually flipped her strawberry blonde hair, “I’m saying this because Kurt has the most protracted view of the current circumstance, and most of us know why.”

“Why is that?” Kurt quirked a curious brow.

“You simultaneously maintain an outside-in and an inside-out perspective,” Lisa explained with arrogant smirk and another flip of her hair, “the blonde comes from a bottle.”

“Cute,” Kurt smirked, “and while I am ready to accept such high praise from Lisa Turpin, some might mistake us for friends now.”

“And it would be a mistake,” Lisa flashed a saccharine smile, “I still think you’re a pretentious, self-involved succubus.”

“Thank you,” Kurt pursed his lips, “that’s high praise from the human equivalent of a vanilla wafer.”

Harry cleared his throat, “That’s enough Kurt.”

“It’s never enough when I’m being called a sex demon by someone who isn’t smart enough to know that a male demon of such a nature is called an incubus,” Kurt scoffed. He fixed an imaginary stray hair and squared his shoulders, “we’re digressing.”

“If that’s digressing then I don’t want to see what character assassination looks like,” Ron chuckled.

“I think we’re ready to move on to the next phase,” Kurt nodded to himself.

Ron furrowed his brow, “We’re doing this in phases? Why does no one tell me anything?”

“Nobody but Kurt thinks we’re doing this in phases,” Hermione assured the red headed boy, “he likes to eat an elephant one bite at a time.” She tucked her hair behind her ear, “and Kurt is so anal that he has to keep record of every bite he intends to take and the impact after the bite.”

Luna giggled, “you’re taking this analogy pretty far.”

“I want to get rid of Professor Umbridge,” Kurt’s tone was matter of fact.

“What?” Neville raised a silencing hand at the chatter that was filling the room, “how the hell are we supposed to do that?”

“You’re the Gryffindor students,” Kurt smiled, “Brave, fool hardy, swashbuckling anti-heroes; this is your moment to shine, ideas?”

“I knew he wasn’t asking all of us,” Lisa flashed a self-satisfied smirk.

“You want to challenge her to a duel?” Ron suggested.

Hermione rolled her eyes, “we want her fired, not dead.”

“I’m open to either,” Kurt shrugged, “What I’m not open to is going to prison.”

“Well,” Ron shrugged, “We could get Fred and George to drive her crazy, and into retirement.”

“That’s a given,” Mandy nodded, “but as the High Inquisitor, it isn’t primarily her job. She would only receive secondary stress from the matter.”

“So, let’s put a pin in that,” Lisa nodded, “we could get Professor Dumbledore to turn Hogwarts, as private property, into a centaur sanctuary.”

“What?” Harry furrowed his brow, clearly perplexed.

“Umbridge is a huge racist,” Lisa explained, “she can’t stand ‘half-breeds’, it would drive her crazy.”

“That would require the approval of the Board of Governors,” Hermione shook her head, “a group of old men who, for the most part, share in Umbridge’s beliefs.”

“But I like where Lisa’s going with this,” Kurt nodded to himself, “we derail everything she stands for in terms of policy, we undermine every educational decree we can and even some of her governing work.”

“We hit her where it hurts most,” Lisa smirked, “her prejudices.”

“Let’s give Lisa’s wisdom some thought and reconvene tomorrow in the Library,” Kurt nodded to himself, “let’s say, at about four?”

“Can we do earlier?” Ron raised his hand, “I have quidditch practice in the afternoon.”

“You can do earlier without me,” Kurt shrugged, “Harry and I have a lunch engagement.”

“I have no prior knowledge of such an engagement.”

“Consider this prior knowledge.”

“Well,” Harry chuckled to himself, “that’s not cryptic at all.”

“It wasn’t meant to be expository,” Kurt shook his head, “it’s none of anyone’s business.” Kurt picked up his tote bag, “if you’ll excuse me, I have a late lunch with Terrence and then dinner with Tracey; I’m having a ‘T’ day. Do you see what it sounds like when I want you to know what I’m up to?”

“Why are you friends with this person?” Mandy stared searchingly into Neville’s eyes.

“Because I’m fucking crazy,” Kurt flashed a broad smirk and exited the room of requirement.

Kurt descended the stairs with great haste, he was technically late but he didn’t have the energy to bend shadows or the down time to deal with migraine that followed; he reserved that extravagance for when it was absolutely necessary. Making Terry wait ten minutes while he worked on saving the world was not worth the stress, he would rather navigate the castle and risk being cornered by the Ravenclaw students wanting to ask him questions based on his study guide; though the Ravenclaws were few, they seemed to be everywhere and they wanted _him_ to answer their questions. He had tried to explain that there was a whole team of people who were uniquely qualified to answer their questions, but to no avail, he had star power.

“Kurt,” Terry smiled up at him, “You’re late.”

“The wizarding world won’t save itself,” Kurt shrugged nonchalantly, “I am the Messiah, the Jesus Christ Superstar if you will.”

“You don’t know how religion works,” Terry pulled Kurt down onto the picnic blanket and kissed him on the cheek, “I have finally found an area in which I can teach you.”

“You’re better at Maths and Physics,” Kurt smiled at him.

Terry shook his head, “I want to share with you the word of The Baby Jesus.”

“I love cheeses,” Kurt gasped excitedly, “never tried baby ones.”

“Well,” the young man produced two sandwich bags, “I have chicken, emmental and prosciutto on rye, there’s Dijon mustard mayo on yours.”

“Yes,” Kurt moaned in ecstasy, “should I just blow you now?”

“Yes please,” Terry grinned, moving to unbuckle his pants.

“I’m here for sandwiches and intellectually stimulating conversation today,” Kurt smiled politely, “I can pencil you in tomorrow during first period, we can cut Ancient Runes.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Then it’s a date,” Kurt flashed a suggestive smile as he pencilled the appointment into his day planner, “what have you been up to?”

“I read Tracey’s paper on simultaneous spell casting,” Terry smiled as he laid down, pulling Kurt into his arms, “it is a genius idea, it smells like you.”

“It is genius,” Kurt smiled broadly, “her idea and methodology are impeccable.”

“And I know you had a hand in it,” Terry kissed Kurt’s forehead, “I’ve read that study guide you wrote from cover to cover, and I know how this mind works.”

“I’m not denying involvement,” Kurt traced lazy circles into Terry’s chest, “the girls and I use each other as sounding boards all the time.”

“You’re not a sounding board,” Terry shook his head, “You’re an instrument.” Terry shook his head, “even when you’re just the medium or facilitator of genius, you have a distinct tone.”

“You keep kissing my ass like this and I’ll cancel tomorrow morning’s appointment.”

“I’m not taking away from Tracey’s genius,” Terry tried to walk back what he’d said, “if you’re a piano, then she isn’t just a concert pianist, she is a composer.” Terry smiled excitedly, “She is Tchaikovsky and this is Swan Lake, a master piece in which the piano is one small but important part.”

“You may not think you’re taking this away from Tracey but you are,” Kurt looked up at the boy who was holding him, “She’s brilliant and she came up with this on her own, she only ran it by Hermione and I because Professor Flitwick told her to.” Kurt grabbed a handful of Terry’s shirt and pulled him in close enough to whisper, “All I did was criticize and eat happiness.”

“Sounds like you,” Terry pulled Kurt in for a kiss.

Kurt pulled back and took a bite from his sandwich, “This is a good sandwich.”

Terry preened under the compliment, “I figured I should go with the good cheese, considering I’m dealing with someone who loves cheese so much they wrote a paper on telling the future through cheese.”

“Choosing emmental was a big risk,” Kurt smirked, “my Oma and Pa make a mean emmental on their farm.”

“The bigger risk was choosing such an obscure branch of divination,” Terry shrugged, “I’m by no means an expert, but I would have gone with Centaur Astrology.”

“As I said, cheese is a family business,” Kurt shrugged, “And this way I got to write off my trips to Alsace as tax deductible business travel and independent study.”

“Smart,” the boy beamed, “Speaking of family…”

Kurt giggled, “I was wondering how long it would take the conversation to circle back to my little revelation.”

“I tried to hold out as long as I could but…” he let out a defeated sigh, “Bellatrix LeStrange?”

“Yes,” Kurt nodded slowly, “it came as quite the shock to me as well.”

“I don’t want to labour the point,” Terry shifted nervously, “You’ve probably had this revelation and I’d hate to be redundant.”

“Out with it!” Kurt snapped.

“You do know that despite sharing DNA with these people, their actions and life choices do not define you,” Terry swallowed nervously.

“I know,” Kurt nodded, “but it’s always nice to hear.”

“You never have to feel in anyway responsible for anything they did or will do,” they rose to a sitting position and Terry held Kurt’s face in both his hands, staring intently into his eyes.

“I know.”

“You are beautiful inside and out,” the boy carried on, “not despite them, or because of them, but independently of them.”

Kurt chuckled, holding back tears, “You’re heading straight for a smack bottom.”

“Please,” Terry leaned forward and kissed Kurt so deeply that his toes curled, “and thank you.”

~0~

“Umbridge appointed you to the inquisitorial squad?” Ron gaped at Kurt as he eyed the silver badge on his lapel, “Why?”

“She appointed all the fifth year Slytherin’s to that stupid squad, sans Tracey,” Kurt rolled his eyes as he opened his mail, “And that’s because she’s a half-blood.”

“You’re ‘Muggleborn’,” Ron spoke with air quotes included.

“Yes,” Kurt nodded, twirling his silver letter opener as if it weren’t sharp enough to slice a finger off, “but it’s now a known secret that I’m probably not.”

“But you’re also Harry’s very close friend,” Ron countered.

“She’s counting on that,” Kurt smirked as he read the feminine cursive, “that my need for self-preservation and my ambition will turn me against Harry in order to get ahead.”

“You’re smiling,” Ron furrowed his brow, “Why are you smiling?”

“Because Umbridge is wrong about me,” Kurt grinned malevolently, “And my family got out of London, before anything could happen to them.”

“Where’d they go?” Ron furrowed his brow.

“To Oma and Pa’s farm,” Kurt nodded slowly as he read the remainder of the letter. He shook his head, and growled under his breath, “I’m going to punch him in the throat.”

“Who are you going to punch in the throat?” Ron furrowed his brow, “not me, right?”

“My house sitter,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “He’s helping himself to my champagne.”

“Someone doesn’t value their life,” Ron scoffed.

He opened the next letter and frowned, “this one’s from your mother, she’s worried about me.”

“That’s thoughtful of her,” Ron eyed him cautiously, “right?”

“She’s confusing me for a fragile child and I don’t like it,” Kurt glared at the letter, “I work best without adult supervision, this concern is a gateway to people watching me closely and stifling my creative process.”

“Creative process?” Ron scoffed, “is that what you’re calling it?”

“Calling what?” Terry slid into the seat beside Kurt and kissed him on the cheek, “Good morning beautiful.”

“Good morning Terrence,” Kurt smiled politely, “Ron was making a crack at how I spend my free time.”

“Being brilliant?”

“That’s sweet.”

Terry leaned forward and grabbed the discarded letter, “who’s writing you, your sister?”

“My sister is a toddler,” Kurt smiled politely, “she can’t write.”

“How do you get so much mail?” Terry glanced at the stack of letters, “I thought you said I only had three other guys as competition, I’m starting to think I should be concerned.” The boy turned in his seat so that he was straddling the bench and hugged Kurt’s side, wrapping his arms around Kurt’s waist, “Goyle and Weasley I know I can take, they can barely spell their own names, but with this many letters…”

“I can hear you,” Ron glared at Terry, “this is why you’re not my pick for the win.”

“Good morning Kurt,” Gregory Goyle sat down opposite him and glared at the boy who had his limbs wrapped around Kurt, “Boot, Weasley.”

“What is this?” Ron furrowed his brow, staring at the large boy beside him.

“I’m just eating breakfast,” Gregory shrugged, “Same as you.”

“Yes,” Kurt nodded as the boy shovelled scrambled eggs into his mouth, “but I believe Ron’s question is why are you doing that here?”

“Well,” Kurt gasped as a foot grazed his shin, moving up his leg, “I’m being sociable.”

“Big word,” Terry teased.

“Not the only thing that’s big,” Goyle grinned, flexing his biceps, “I’ve heard different of you.”

“I’m trying to eat here,” Ron glared from one of them to the other.

“I’m not stopping you,” Gregory shrugged. He returned his attention to Kurt, “what are you reading?”

“My mail,” Kurt glared at the boy who was playing footsie-footsie with him under the table, “it’s one of my morning chores.”

Kurt opened the next letter and his breath hitched as he recognised the handwriting, Ron quirked his brow, “who is it from?”

“Your aunt,” Kurt was intentionally vague, “she says I was right about the hollandaise sauce, and would like to know what might make the perfect eggs benedict.”

“You cook?” Gregory’s face lit up.

“It’s not very different from potions making,” Kurt shrugged, “you find the right recipe, you follow the instructions and-”

“Buttery deliciousness,” Gregory moaned.

“You’re clearly familiar with hollandaise sauce,” Terry smirked, “but I think how multitalented Kurt is should be your focus.”

“I know just how multitalented Kurt is,” Gregory smirked, wagging his brow suggestively, “a lot better than you ever will.”

“Boys,” Kurt glared at both the boys, “behave.” Kurt produced his personalised stationary, “Or you will regret it.”

“Sorry,” Gregory’s shoulders slumped.

Kurt made quick work of writing down a recipe for Eggs Benedict, keeping his mind on what he really wanted the letter to say. It was addressed to Xun, a response to her admitting that he was correct about Voldermort breaking former Death Eaters out of Azkaban. Kurt was explaining to her that he suspected the hall of records to be the Dark Lord’s next target, it appeared in the page as instructions on how to poach an egg so that it was perfectly soft- a Julia Child recipe.

“You have really pretty handwriting,” Gregory smiled sheepishly.

“Yes,” Terry smirked, “you have impeccable penmanship.”

Kurt looked up from where he was signing his name, he tapped the letter with his wand and whispered and incantation which made the letter fold itself and slide into the envelope.

Kurt glared at Gregory, “You should be quiet while I’m concentrating.” He turned to Terry, “You shouldn’t show off.”

“What’s going on here?” Tracey eyed the group suspiciously as she slid into the seat beside Kurt, “are you guys getting ready for a fourway?”

“I don’t do that kind of thing,” Ron shook his head.

“So you’re not a Hummelsexual,” Tracey smirked, “How refreshing.”

“Jealousy is a good colour on you,” Terry scoffed.

“It’s my colouring,” Tracey pursed her lips and crossed her legs, “goes well with everything.”

“I hear no lies,” Kurt nodded.

“I need your help,” Tracey pulled out her moleskin.

“Still no lies,” Kurt giggled.

“Good one,” Terry guffawed.

“You’re trying too hard,” Ron glanced sideways at the Ravenclaw boy, “nobody likes a kiss ass.” He shook his head, “You’re making me like Goyle better than you.”

“Thank you Weasley.”

Ron held up a silencing finger, “Be quiet white boy.”

“You’re white,” Tracey rolled her eyes, “So white you almost glow in the dark.”

“That’s uncalled for,” Ron grumbled into his chest.

“No,” Kurt shook his head, “I think you earned that.”

“Okay,” Tracey turned her attention to Kurt, “Could you stop thinking about Goyle’s boner for a moment and answer my question?”

Gregory’s face lit up, “You think of my boners?”

“How can I help you Tracey?”

“I wanted you to look over my charms essay,” Tracey produced parchment with perfectly uniform handwriting, “Flitwick gave me an exceeds expectations grade on my last one and yet he believes you shoot rainbows out of your ass, where am I going wrong? He loved my paper on simultaneous spell casting.”

“Clearly by not being Kurt,” Ron chuckled, “it seems everyone thinks the sun shines out of his backside.”

“It is a great backside,” Terry moaned.

“Agreed,” Gregory smiled salaciously.

Kurt dropped the parchment and looked at Tracey in surprise, “I expected better from you.”

“It’s that bad?” Tracey gaped at him, snatching her essay defensively.

“It’s worse,” Kurt shook his head, “it’s boring.”

“Boring?” Tracey furrowed her brow, “it’s an essay on the permanence of enchanting objects, not a Stephan King novel.”

“I’m not saying it isn’t informative,” Kurt leaned forward, “this is all great stuff but if the marker doesn’t enjoy reading your work then they’re less likely to give you a good grade.”

“So what?” Tracey quirked a curious brow, “Do I need some cute stories like you told Pansy she needed?”

“No, Pansy didn’t have a tone problem, she had a content problem,” Kurt chuckled, “you’re much smarter than she is, what you have here is enough for an Outstanding OWL. What you need is more style, the thing about Stephen King novels is that they are written such that you want to read them.”

“Fine,” Tracey rolled her eyes, “what should I do? How should I fix this?”

“You can start by dropping the attitude,” Kurt smiled politely, “I’m already dealing with a lot here.” Kurt gestured to the boy hanging off his shoulder, “What you need to do is switch up your structure slightly.”

“Please tell me quickly so I don’t have to keep watching Goyle imagining being knuckles deep in you for much longer,” Tracey rolled her eyes with a flip of her braids, “I just ate.”

“Same sis,” Ron waved his hands in surrender.

Tracey glared at him, “We’re not friends.”

“Your introduction explains perfectly what the essay is going to say,” Kurt marked the essay with a red marker, “this tone, would make this exact same essay miles more interesting. A run-on sentence here and there, move the facts to the beginning of the stanza and add a little imagery as a link between the opinions and findings.”

Tracey took the essay from him and went over it quickly, “doesn’t look very different but then again, what do I know?”

“You didn’t care about this essay.”

Tracey quirked a curious brow, “I beg your pardon?”

“I’ve read your work when you care,” Kurt shook his head, “this isn’t it, this is you doing your homework because you have to.” Kurt flashed a small smile, “this isn’t even a tenth as good as your masterpiece on simultaneous enchantments.”

“Fine,” Tracey rolled his eyes, “I don’t much care for magical theory.”

“You focus on your magical theory and you’ll overtake Padma for third place,” Kurt shrugged, “maybe even Hermione for second place.”

“I thought you were in second place?”

“For now,” Kurt smirked, “consider the last four years my academic rope-a-dope.”

“Really?” Tracey scoffed, “you want to compare yourself to Mahammad Ali?”

“Maybe.”

“Because you aren’t nearly as legendary,” Tracey shook her head, “or as hot.”

“You’re being a bit of a bitch for someone I just helped with their homework,” Kurt glared at her.

“This is the part where he makes you kiss the ring,” Ron scoffed.

“No,” Kurt glared at Ron, “This is the part where I ask her to save me from this breakfast.”

“Nope,” Tracey shook her head, “you got the wrong girl, I told you I wasn’t getting involved in this mess you’ve tangled yourself in.”

“Besides,” Terry grabbed his hand and kissed his neck, “We have a morning engagement.”

“Try that again and it’ll be the last time you have hands,” Gregory growled.

“Dark,” Terry and Ron chorused.

“Sexy,” Kurt let slip simultaneously, he received a reproachful look from Ron, “Right, dark, so dark.”

“I’m sure there’s some appeal to that primitive jealousy,” Ron shrugged.

“I’m going to go find someone who wants to be knuckles deep in me,” Tracey waved over her shoulder, “Tracey Davis out.”

“This morning you’re mine,” Terry growled in a voice barely above a whisper, “completely.”

Kurt could see Gregory was seething, “What are you doing this afternoon?”

“I’m tutoring Harry at lunch, then Hermione and I are hitting the library,” Kurt shrugged, “After dinner the girls and I are having a group study session for our Dark Arts OWL.”

“Don Karkaroff said I was set to do well in Dark Arts,” Gregory gloated.

“Good for you,” Kurt smiled politely, “But not everyone has your natural acclamation for the subject, I have it, but not everyone.”

“May I be excused?” Ron glared at the three of them, “I need to go throw up.”

“Too much information,” Kurt rolled his eyes.

“You’re telling me,” Ron shook his head, “This threeway was a bridge too far for me.”

Terry’s face lit up, “Could w-”

“Not a chance in hell,” Gregory cut him off before he could complete the thought.

~0~

“This is nice,” Harry looked around Kurt’s dorm room, “like, hotel nice.”

“Thank you,” Kurt smiled politely as he unpacked his school tote and placed it in his trunk.

“Are all the Slytherin dorms this nice?” the boy looked like he wanted to sit on the bed but wasn’t sure how the tiger sized kneazle would take that, “or is this because you’re Kurt Elizabeth Hummel?”

“They’re all this lovely,” Kurt smirked, “it’s like our gift for being hated by everyone.”

Harry shuffled from heel to toe, “fancy.”

“The fanciest,” Kurt fixed an imaginary stray hair as he spoke.

“Is this like the only time you guys are better than everyone,” Harry chuckled, “right?”

“Considering we’ve won the House Cup every year for the last fifteen odd years, barring one,” Kurt pursed his lips, “I’d like to think we’re the best at a number of things, even if that only means our ability to cohabitate and cooperate.”

“Right,” Harry nodded, “and that one year was because you let us win.”

“Sit,” Kurt assured him, “Bomballerina wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“I saw what she tried to do to Scabbers,” Harry shuddered.

Kurt smirked, “And I saw what you did to Professor Quirrel.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I think you can take her,” Kurt’s smirk grew into a malevolent grin, “she is just an itty-bitty kitty-cat.”

“That’s as much a kitty-cat as I am,” Harry scoffed.

“I never took you for a cat person,” Kurt shrugged as he picked up his Burkin.

“So,” Harry fiddle with his sweater, “this lunch engagement…” Kurt watched the boy try to construct a complete thought, “what’s up?”

“We’re going to Durham,” Kurt beamed.

“Like the coal mines?” Harry furrowed his brow.

“Try not to think about it,” Kurt shook his head as he threw his cloak over Harry’s shoulders, dimmed the lights and walked into a darkened corner.

When they came out on the other side, Harry collapsed on his hands and knees. Kurt smiled down at him, “You get used to it.”

“You could have warned me,” Harry shook his head as he moved into a sitting position and stopped immediately, “that only makes it worse.”

A hand extended from the shadows of the poorly lit room, helping Harry to his feet and handing him a glass of clear sparkling liquid, “this helps.”

“Thanks disembodied shadow voice,” He gulped down the liquid quickly, “I think I just drank ammonia.”

“I’m surprised you’ve heard of ammonia,” Kurt quirked a surprised brow.

“I read,” Kurt glared at him, “Hermione reads and I’m near her at the time.”

“That sounds better.”

“I feel better,” Harry smiled, “what potion was that?”

“Gin,” Kurt answered nonchelantly, “And tonic; quinine helps with the headache for some reason.”

“And the gin?”

“That’s for fun,” Kurt smirked.

“I thought you said we were going to Durham,” Harry looked around the dimly lit room, “this looks like your house.”

“This is my house,” Kurt nodded as the curtains started opening and lighting up the formal lounge, “we’re taking the floo to Durham. You can’t just shadow travel into people’s houses, that would be rude.”

“I didn’t think you were one to shy away from rudeness.”

“Charlie?” Harry squinted in the newly brightened room, “is that you?”

“As I live and breathe,” the broad young man chortled.

“Not for long if you keep drinking my champagne,” Kurt growled, “I will kill you quicker than you can say ‘He who shall not be named’.”

“Good to see this is still a thing you do,” Harry rolled his eyes, “What is it that prevents you from being amicable with Weasleys?”

“Draco has difficulty as well,” Kurt flashed a saccharine smile, “maybe it’s genetic.”

“Or maybe it’s because you’re both gits and we’re the best people in existence,” Charlie shrugged.

Kurt rolled his eyes, “prepare the floo and be quiet.”

“When did you connect your house to the floo?” Harry furrowed his brow.

“Hipster Weasley did it.”

“Speaking of,” Harry turned to the heavily freckled boy, “Why are you here?”

“I’m sorry,” Charlie furrowed his brow and crossed his arms, “I didn’t realise I had to explain my where abouts to the great Harry Potter.”

“What I mean is…” Harry scratched at the back of his neck, “shouldn’t you be in Romania or something?”

“Should?” Charlie quirked a challenging brow, “is that a command?”

“No, you’re not understanding me,” Harry ran his fingers through his hair and let out a defeated sigh, “Kurt please help.”

“I’m just messing with you,” Charlie gave the dark-haired boy a too hard pat on the shoulder, “I didn’t want to be off on the side lines while I everyone I cared about put themselves in the line of fire. I also didn’t want to worry mum, she was so glad I was safe in Romania.”

“So he came to the one person who always has a solution,” Kurt smirked, “And like Santa I pulled a little something out of my bag.”

“I now tend to the Dragon that guards the LeStrange Family Vault at Gringotts,” Charlie shrugged nonchalantly, “you assholes did a real number on that poor thing.”

“I didn’t even know there was a vault until a month or so ago,” Kurt held his hands up in surrender, “I also got right on rectifying that misdeed as soon as I was aware and able.”

Harry furrowed his brow, “So you work for Bellatrix LeStrange?”

“You do know that LeStrange is her married name?” Kurt tilted his head in surprise, “he would work for Rudolphus LeStrange but Wizarding Law automatically disinherits anyone serving a life sentence in Azkaban, that’s why Sirius isn’t rolling in it.” Kurt flashed a self-satisfied smirk, “he works for me.”

“Two things,” Charlie’s velvety voice boomed, “We could have this conversation on the other side.” He herded them into the fireplace, “24 Morrison Street, Durham.”

The green flames enveloped them and they emerged in the lounge of a more modest version of his house, cleaned to perfection but sans designer wallpaper. Seated in the lounge were Remus, Sirius, Tonks and a woman who looked strikingly like Bellatrix- Andromeda.

“Secondly,” Charlie continued, “I don’t work for Kurt, I work for the Gringotts Bank.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Kurt grinned.

“Whatever,” Charlie growled, “How are your four boyfriends?”

“Depends,” Harry smirked, “How are you Hipster Weasley?”

“Harry!” Kurt and Charlie chorused.

“How dare you insinuate that Hipster Weasley is anything but my employee!”

“He has biceps and you talk to him all the time,” Harry shrugged, “isn’t that how your desire of suitors works?”

“You’re finding your own way back to Hogwarts,” Kurt shook his head.

“If you’re quite done,” Sirius chortled.

“We’re actually not done,” Kurt raised a silencing finger, “And also… oh, okay, we are done.” He shrugged, “Harry, I thought that Lunch with some of your favourite non-leadership people would serve you well.”

“What the hell is leadership?” Charlie whispered.

“Later,” Kurt shook his head, he moved across the room and stood before the woman who looked like a more delicately crafted version of his birth mother, “Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, son of Bellatrix and Rudolphus LeStrange.” There was an amicable tension between them for a moment, “so, what should I call you? Aunt Andy?”

“Nobody has called me Andy since I got married and all the people who called me that stopped speaking to me,” she offered a small smile that reminded him of Druella, “Everyone simply calls me Andromeda.”

“Not me,” Tonks interjected, “I call her mum.”

“Ah yes,” Andromeda nodded, “and Edward calls me Dromeda when we’re getting dirty. I don’t think either of these are appropriate for Kurt, don’t you think Nymphadora?”

“We’ve had this conversation,” Tonks was seething as she served him tea, “I’d prefer if you called me Tonks.”

“Nonsense,” the woman shook her head, “that isn’t something you’re called in casual company, least of all by your mother.”

“Speaking of mothers,” Kurt gaped at her, “You are uncannily like your own mother.”

“I told her the same thing,” Sirius nodded excitedly, “she’s always been most like her mother.”

“That would be Narcissa,” Her voice was level and void of emotion just like her mothers, “but, you’ve had the pleasure of meeting my mother?”

“We do lunch every now and again,” Kurt shrugged, “She and Jadis never fail to tell me how like my biological parents I am.”

“Arrogant, condescending and always right?”

“Yes,” came as a resounding chorus through the room.

“I think I’m more surprised that Jadis Rowle LeStrange is still alive than I am that Bellatrix would have a son who manages to be both a difficult and perfect child,” she pursed her lips, “I’m sure she’ll hate to love you.”

“Much too like her?”

“Too much for my sister’s liking,” Andromeda shook her head, “Shall we move to the dining room?”

“After you,” Remus nodded politely.

Kurt was following the group into the next room when Charlie grabbed him by the elbow, “a moment.”

“Don’t grab me,” Kurt shook his head.

“Sorry,” the larger boy shrugged, “I was trying to be subtle, I didn’t think it untoward.”

“Do it again and it’ll be the last time you have hands.”

“That escalated quickly,” Charlie gulped.

Kurt rolled his eyes, “how can I help you Charles?”

“What’s the angle?”

Kurt quirked a curious brow, “I beg your pardon?”

“This lunch,” Kurt watched the young man roll his muscular shoulders, “what’s the end game?”

“I’m guessing three or so courses,” Kurt shrugged.

Charlie furrowed his heavily freckled brow, “three courses? I mean the big picture.”

Kurt pursed his lips, “Have you ever been lost and alone in the dark?”

“What?”

“When you feel lost, unsure where to go or how to move,” Kurt flashed a small smile, “every move you make feels like the wrong one.”

“I don’t get where you’re going with this,” he shook his head.

Kurt’s smile grew, “when you have someone’s hand in yours, when you have assurance that you are not alone, it makes the darkness that much less frightening.”

“Knowing that you won’t be too lost as long as you’re not alone,” Charlie nodded but the lights weren’t coming on.

Kurt nodded slowly, “Harry doesn’t see Hermione, Lisa, Luna, Neville, Ron or me as a hand in the dark, we’re too close.”

“You’re giving him the hand in the dark.”

“I’m reminding him that he matters to people outside of being ‘the Boy who lived’.”

Charlie chuckled, “you never seize to amaze me.”

“I am amazing,” Kurt fixed an imaginary stray.

“Let me rephrase,” Charlie scratched nervously at the back of his neck, “you’ll never stop surprising me.”

“When we stop surprising the people in our lives,” Kurt shrugged, “then the game is over.”

“Then take my assurance,” Charlie crossed his arms, “you are still very in the game.”


	15. Chapter 15

“So, let me get this straight,” Ron peered at the pair cautiously, “Kurt took you to lunch with Sirius, Lupin and Tonks?” Harry nodded, “And my brother was there?”

“That’s exactly how I just explained it,” Kurt rolled his eyes.

“Why did Charlie get to go to lunch but not me?”

“He’s house sitting for me since my family went into hiding,” Kurt shrugged, “We had to go through my place and I thought it would be rude to exclude him, given the circumstances.”

“Is that the story we’re going with?” Harry wagged a suggestive brow.

“For the first time in my life, I believe, I get to say this,” Kurt smirked condescendingly, “but I don’t understand what Harry Potter is saying.”

“Is this the part where the sun falls and is feasted on by the fowls?” Ron rolled his eyes.

“That is what Kurt would have us believe,” Hermione narrowed her gaze, “but my curiosity has been piqued and the library isn’t sufficient to satiate this hunger.”

“Has my day in the sun finally come?”

Hermione nodded grinning broadly, “this is your moment, don’t let me down.”

“You’re all being ridiculous,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “but be free my children.”

Harry grinned, “It’s because Charlie and Kurt are in love.”

“You and Hipster Weasley?” Hermione gasped, “No, I have money on Terry.”

“Trust me, I’m equally as disappointed,” Harry moaned as they approached the quidditch pitch, “but I was going to lose anyway because I have since been convinced that Kurt was going to run into the sunset with Auror in training Buckleman, Tonks says he’s great.”

“It’s Puckerman,” Ron corrected.

“You know your Kurt,” Harry scoffed, “but did you know he’d pick your brother?”

“Firstly, I did not pick anyone,” Kurt snapped, “Secondly, you guys are taking bets on who I’m going to fall in love with?”

“Well…” Hermione fiddled with her hair for a moment, “it’s more like a bet of who knows you best.”

“Yeah,” Ron nodded, “You’re all of our favourite person and we just want to prove to each other that we know you best.” Kurt glared at the boy, “Too much?”

“You think?”

“I see,” Ron nodded solemnly, “I’m just going to bow out of this conversation while I still have some semblance of dignity.”

“It’s cute how you think you ever had any dignity,” Hermione giggled.

“Well… I… The thing is…” Ron let out a tired breath, “I’m going to go to practice, where I am valued.”

“Because Weasley is our King,” the group chorused with a biting air.

Hermione turned to Kurt, her eyes digging deep into his soul, “Hipster Weasley? Really?” she shook her head, “Even Goyle is better than him, even if just on principle.”

“Principle?” Harry quirked a curious brow.

“Kurt doesn’t hate everything that Goyle is, or that he stands for,” Hermione clarified.

“I don’t hate anything,” Kurt countered, “I am filled with the milk of human kindness.”

“I told you I didn’t need to hear that,” Harry sulked.

“And I told you that it doesn’t mean what you think it means,” Kurt rolled his eyes.

“Given that you burped earlier and it smelled like Terry’s dick, I wouldn’t be so sure.”

Hermione snapped her fingers triumphantly, “Still in the running!”

“We’re just going to ignore the fact that Harry knows what Terrys penis smells like?” Kurt protested, “He didn’t say I had penis breath, he knew exactly whose penis it was.”

“I would like to exercise my right to remain silent,” Harry shook his head.

“This isn’t a court of law,” Hermione shook her head with a boisterous guffaw, “if anything it is a CIA black sight, you have no rights.”

“Well,” Harry rolled his eyes, “if you must know.”

“We must,” Hermione assured him.

Harry took off his glasses and wiped them on his cloak, “I have been Goyle and I know what he… smells like.”

“You gave you-Goyle a handjob,” Hermione smirked suggestively, “Didn’t you?”

“Oh Harry,” Kurt shook his head, “I assured Lisa you were straight, and all along you’ve been Handjob-Harry for a different reason.”

“I did not,” Harry exclaimed, “I smelled his musk and took a little peek, other than that I may be the only straight one in this group of friends.”

“I’m straight,” Hermione exclaimed.

“So is Neville,” Kurt smirked, “I’ve been meaning to rub this in your face for a while, but I believe Mandy and he to be sexually active.”

“Neville?” Harry shook his head, “No way Neville lost his virginity before me.” Harry shook his head more vigorously and let out an unhinged laugh, “if anyone, then Kurt.”

“Why me?”

“Yes, Why him?”

“Well, two of his suitors are over twenty,” Harry shrugged, “And given how he was with Cedric, who knows?”

“I know,” Hermione interjected, “but Kurt almost never sees Puck, his only suitor over twenty.”

“I would like to file an official motion to have Charlie elevated to suitor level,” Harry countered.

“Motion denied,” Hermione shook her head determinedly.

“On what grounds?”

“Hipster Weasley smells like worn leather,” she rolled her eyes.

“He’s also not expressed any explicit desire to be with me,” Kurt shrugged, “that should be reason enough to keep him as far from me as the sun.”

“But he fits every other requisite for a suitor,” Harry countered.

“I’m listening,” Hermione quirked a curious brow.

“Well,” Harry grinned, “He’s someone’s definition of attractive, his arms are amazing, and he writes Kurt all the time.”

“That is how Goyle was inducted into the desire,” Hermione nodded to herself.

“No,” Kurt shook his head, “my desire of suitors is not a democracy.”

Hermione shook her head, “I think at this point, it’s our desire.”

“We’re all way too involved not to claim ownership,” Harry shook his head.

“And as a senior signatory to this desire of suitors, I would like to formally induct Hipster Weasley into the ranks.”

Kurt stared at his best friend in awe, “Who made you a signatory?”

“You did,” Hermione chortled, “When I became your best friend, you enforced this appointment when you allowed me to cull your desire to the remaining members.”

“Oh yes,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “the day you made Order of the White Lotus meetings awkward.”

“I feel like your fellow Masters did that when they decided to fall in love with you.”

Kurt shrugged, “Fair.”

“So,” Harry beamed, “is Hipster Weasley officially a suitor?”

“In your minds,” Kurt shrugged, “that doesn’t change the fact that our relationship is strictly that of an employer and his employee.”

“I’m sure if we told him he’d spray the room,” Hermione teased.

“Don’t tell him,” Kurt snapped, “After Harry insinuated that he was one of my boyfriends today, it would only go to his head.”

“But which head?” Harry teased.

Kurt glared at his friend, “this is why you lived under the stairs.”

“Kurt!” Harry and Hermione chorused.

“Oh, did I take it too far?” the sarcasm dripped from every word Kurt spoke, “I thought anything goes after you invited someone into my romantic life despite my objections.”

“Let’s just make a general rule that rooms under stairs are always a bridge too far,” Hermione suggested.

“I think you’d get pretty snippy if we started inviting people to your vagina,” Kurt countered, “but I am sorry if I crossed a line.”

“We are so far beyond crossing lines that it isn’t even funny,” Harry chuckled, “but we didn’t invite Charlie into your bed, we just want you to acknowledge that there is a mutual interest there.”

“Why?” Kurt rolled his eyes, “because he works with dragons and I’m interested in dragons?”

“More like he works with dragons,” Hermione laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, “and since you met him, every non-Nancy Drew piece of research you’ve done has been about dragons.”

“Because my Care for Magical Creatures independents study project was on dragons,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “Hagrid assigned it to me.”

“Look,” Harry shrugged, “you can either fight this or you can go with it.”

“Your choice,” Hermione smirked.

Kurt rolled his eyes, “I choose to remind you both that it is my desire of suitors and that you should drop this if you don’t want to be punched in the throat.”

“You always have to take it there,” Harry clutched his neck defensively.

“And you all like to include yourselves in my damn business,” Kurt shrugged nonchalantly.

“That’s kind of what friends do,” Hermione pointed out.

Kurt rolled his eyes, “You don’t really know what you have until it’s gone, I took being friendless for granted.”

“Keep talking like this and it will come back to you with a vengeance,” Hermione smirked.

“Time to do the right thing and change the subject,” Kurt flashed a saccharine smile, “tell me about your day Hermione Jean Granger.”

“It’s been okay,” she shrugged nonchalantly.

Kurt quirked an expectant brow, “just okay?”

“Yeah.”

“No time with Alexander Bembridge?”

“None,” she shook her head, “I’m much too busy writing erotic friend fiction about you and Charlie.”

“You literally just found out about that,” Kurt rolled his eyes.

“Professor Trelawney was fired,” she exclaimed, “I almost forgot.”

“How do you forget someone losing their livelihood?” Harry asked pointedly.

“I didn’t forget,” she rolled her eyes, “I _almost_ forgot.”

“Good,” Kurt nodded to himself.

“Okay, Kurt’s response was ‘good’,” Harry nodded slowly, “I’m not sure which is worse, Hermione’s indifference or the fact that you’re deriving pleasure from the situation.”

Hermione shrugged, “she wasn’t very good at her job, it was only a matter of time.”

“It was actually kind of funny, she was ugly-crying at the beginning,” Hermione smirked, “then it got sad when she said Hogwarts was her only home and she almost lost that.”

“I can see how that tragedy could be forgettable,” Harry shook his head in disappointment.

“But she didn’t,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “Professor Dumbledore let her keep her quarters.”

“Yeah, because Professor D-” Harry furrowed his brow, “How did you know Professor Dumbledore let her stay?”

“I co-ordinated this whole thing,” Kurt waved the boy off, “I knew that Professor Umbridge would make a scene out of the dismissal, and I thought that was a perfect opportunity to undermine her authority.”

“You got Professor Trelawney fired?” Harry gaped.

“Professor Umbridge was going to do it anyway when she became Headmistress,” Kurt shrugged, “this way she’s protected from exile.”

“Why?”

Hermione raised a silencing finger, “why do you think Umbridge is going to be Headmistress?”

“The Minister for Magic thinks Professor Dumbledore is after his job,” Kurt shook his head as if this was the most obvious information, “that’s why he’s been slandering him, the trump card is to discredit him by having him deposed as Headmaster.”

“Installing someone the Ministry can control,” Hermione let out a defeated sigh.

“Yes,” Kurt nodded, “I’m just fast-forwarding through events that are going to happen, twist them to best suit us.”

“How’d you do it?”

“I told Millicent that Professor Trelawney had made a bogus and slanderous prediction about Professor Umbridge during my private session with her,” Kurt shrugged, “Millicent was compelled to go tell Professor Umbridge because she’s on the Inquisitorial Squad.”

“You’re on the Inquisitorial Squad,” Harry pointed out, “why weren’t you compelled?”

“Some of the truest sins are born of pure loyalty,” Kurt flashed a weak smile.

“What’s the endgame?” Hermione gaped at him, “what’s the plan?”

“Professor Dumbledore is going to appoint Firenze as Professor of Divination,” Kurt smirked.

“Firenze?” Harry furrowed his brow, “why him?”

“Centaurs use a combination of Astronomy and Astrology to divine the future,” Hermione smiled broadly, “And having a centaur teaching at Hogwarts will drive Umbridge crazy.”

“That Lisa is quite brilliant at moments,” Kurt pursed his lips in approval.

“Speaking of Lisa,” Hermione flashed him a suspicious glance, “I had to get her to give Tracey a tutorial on handjobs.”

“You got Lisa to do it?”

“She apparently wasn’t satisfied with your suggestion to use her mouth,” Hermione shrugged, “even when I echoed the sentiment.”

“That’s how Oma taught me how to do it,” Kurt shrugged.

“I know, right?”

“Could you give this talk to Lisa?”

“You’re on your own,” Hermione shook her head.

“Besides, Anthony Rickett deserves a blowjob,” Kurt shook his head, “Hermione rejected him for Viktor and then for Alexander Bembridge, he’s been a great friend to Finnocence since Cedric’s death, and he’s a sweetheart with great arms.”

“Whereas Lisa made it clear that you had only earned a handjob,” Kurt put his hand on Harry’s shoulder, “do better; be more like Anthony Rickett and we will advocate blowjobs for you.”

“Tracey didn’t say she wasn’t going to do it,” Hermione explained.

“Her exact words were she’s not there yet,” Finn completed the sentence, seeming to appear out of thin air.

“Might I remind you all that Tracey Davis is my friend,” Kurt snapped.

“I’m sure Tracey would contest that claim,” Finn scoffed.

“Can we talk about how if you speak of Finn, he appears?” Hermione glared at the tall boy.

“Like any good poltergeist,” Finn smirked.

“Peeves would contest that claim,” Harry snorted, earning a reproachful look from Kurt.

“Tracey is too my friend,” Kurt snapped, “we’re simpatico.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Finn shrugged.

Kurt shook his head, “This is not about how I sleep at night.”

“Restlessly,” Finn interjected, “Kurt fights demons in his sleep.”

“This is about the fact that I introduced you all to Tracey Davis and now you think she’s your friend.”

“Oh please,” Hermione scoffed.

“Nobody but you, is delusional enough to think they are Tracey Davis’ friend,” Finn scoffed.

“Tracey Davis doesn’t have friends,” Hermione shook her head.

Finn nodded his agreement, “I don’t think she believes in friendship.”

“Or is capable of it,” Hermione completed the thought.

“She is the pinnacle of dead on the inside,” they chorused.

Harry shrugged, “she’s pretty and compelling enough to get away with it, she makes being a loner sexy.”

“No,” Kurt shook his head, “Firstly, I am her friend; secondly, nobody is more dead on the inside than I am; and thirdly, I could get away with being a loner too!”

“You’re the person who cries second most out of everybody I know,” Finn chortled, “You are so alive on the inside that you have five boyfriends.”

“Five?” Hermione quirked a curious brow.

“Didn’t we just add Charlie to the desire?”

“I thought he was number four,” Hermione furrowed her brow.

“Isn’t that Ron?”

“No,” Hermione shook her head, “Ron is rooting for someone, he doesn’t have the emotional maturity to root for someone other than himself.”

“Ron is a growing boy,” Kurt snapped, “You don’t know his story, he is maturing.”

“Sure,” Finn rolled his eyes, “that’s why he’s single.”

“Ron could be with Lavender Brown if he wanted to date someone,” Kurt crossed his arms indignantly, “that should tell you something.”

Finn’s face lit up, “he’s saving himself for you!” He grabbed Hermione by the shoulders and shook her, “I told you he was number four!”

“Ron is not one of Kurt’s suitors,” Harry shook his head.

“Oh yeah,” Finn flashed a smarmy grin, “then why was he at this morning’s suitor breakfast?”

Kurt shook his head, “that was just Ron and I having breakfast, Terry and Gregory invited themselves.”

“That sounds plausible,” Finn rolled his eyes.

“Besides,” Kurt crossed his arms and let out an indignant huff, “I’ve dissolved my desire of suitors.”

“Because you and Charlie declared relationship status when we got to Tonks’!” Harry exclaimed in excitement.

“What?” Kurt furrowed his brow in horror, “no!”

“I think thou doth protest too much,” Finn shook his head.

“You can’t,” Hermione gaped at him, “I have good money in that pool, I need to win! Don’t let Mandy win!”

“Calm down,” Kurt scooted away from his demented friend, “I was trying to change the subject, my desire is still intact.”

“Unlike your hymen,” Finn and Hermione chorused, high-fiving each other.”

“What?” Kurt furrowed his brow in confusion, “I don’t have a hymen.”

“Not anymore,” Finn smirked suggestively.

“Never,” Kurt shook his head in disappointment, “A hymen is part of the female anatomy, being male precludes me from having one.”

“Mandy is totally going to win the pool,” Harry let out a defeated sigh, gazing wistfully at the Gryffindor quidditch team practice.

“Why?” Kurt looked around at them, “what’d she bet?”

“That you were doing this for attention,” Hermione shrugged dismissively, “I know this is a melding of two great minds, that’s why Terry is going to win.”

“No, Kurt is using Terry to make Goyle unlock his potential,” Harry countered, “making him into the man he knows he deserves.”

“Kurt is just a teenage boy,” Finn shook his head, “you guys are giving him too much credit.” Finn let out a demoralising guffaw, “that said, if anyone’s going to win it’ll be Goyle! He invented being a Hummelsexual, and I’ve heard it’s like a baby elephant.”

The group turned to Kurt expectantly, but he just stared at them blankly. Hermione smirked, “Harry?”

“What?” he shrugged.

“You know the smell of all the desire’s penises,” Hermione clarified, “you should know size too.”

“I told you to stop smelling people’s penises,” Finn scolded.

“What?”

The tall boy shrugged, “it just felt right.”

“When I interacted with the subject matter,” he shifted in his seat uncomfortably, “it was like baby’s arm.”

“Wow,” Hermione shook her head, “that is some image.”

Finn cleared his throat, “Am I the only one imagining an infant’s limb protruding from Goyle’s crotch?”

“Not anymore,” Hermione and Kurt chorused.

There was a tranquil moment of silence, “this is nice.”

“What?” Hermione shot Harry a quizzical look, “talking about the size of Goyle’s penis?”

“Being able to talk about it,” Harry chuckled, “having this time to forget about everything that’s happening in the world to talk about things that have been inside Kurt.”

“You’re still not allowed to discuss that topic,” Hermione shook her head, “You haven’t earned the right.”

“Earned the right?” Finn furrowed his brow.

“You have to slap or punch Draco in the face before you can discuss what is or has been inside Kurt,” Harry explained, “an honour that only Hermione and Kurt currently hold.”

“Challenge accepted,” Finn smirked malevolently.

“You have to have witnesses or it isn’t real,” Hermione clarified, “it’s not enough to just say you did it.”

~0~

Kurt looked over the group of young adults that stood before him, grown before their time but not yet as knowing of the world as he was; many of them had not yet seen death, it would not visit them for some time. Kurt looked into the eyes of those who knew what it felt like to lose something that held you together, someone that you held in such esteem that they were part of you- those that had lost love knew the look in his eyes as he flashed a hopeful smile.

Harry Potter had lost his parents and the right to determine his own destiny one dark Halloween before he could speak. Susan Bones had lost every member of her family save for one days before her second birthday. Neville Longbottom was forced to live on the fringe of ultimate loss, on the cusp of being an orphan, without his parents but having them within reach. Finn Hudson and Anthony Rickett had lost their best friend younger than anyone should lose friends. Dean Thomas and Ming Prewett had been robbed the opportunity to know their fathers by death and mystery. Kurt had suffered his own loss at the hands of an evil they were born into, the very evil that had snatched his first love from him; he mourned for the losses of his peers, for his own losses, for love that would never be seen to fruition, and for the bleak future ahead of them.

Kurt closed his eyes and thought for a moment of all that he had to lose, wondering if he would see his father again. Kurt wondered if Harley and Velma would have the opportunity to know the brother that was chosen for them by the words of a seer? Would they know what he had been like? Would they know what had been taken him from them? Would he succeed and assure their opportunity to attend Hogwarts? Would Kurt ever have the opportunity to stand before his muggleborn siblings and teach them how to be good wizards? Teach them to be strong, wise, brave, loyal, cunning and respectful. Teach his babies, as he was doing now, that a good wizard is one who makes their own choices and is respectful of those around them’s right to make their own choices and exist.

Kurt thought selfishly, would he ever have another great romance? Had he met his soulmate and loved them to completion already? Was he destined for one unfulfilling romance after another, or was there a third act to his love life that would be as consuming as the first? Would the hole left by Cedric’s death be filled in this plane of existence, or would he have to wait to be reunited with the boy who had loved him better than he deserved to be loved? Was he wrong to preoccupy himself with his own woes in the shadow of the leviathan that they were facing?

As the second he was wrapped in stretched into an eternity, Kurt prayed to the echo of Rowena Ravenclaw that lived within him for the guidance to navigate the future as it stretched before him like the country road; slick with rain, merging with the bleak grey sky on the horizon.

“Right,” he hardened his face, “today’s lesson is the hardest you will have, today we turn the human body into an instrument.”

“Kurt will be teaching us how to cast the most basic spells windlessly,” Harry nodded from beside him, “this will be a lesson for all of us, I don’t know how to do what we’re about to learn either. We’re going to learn this together.”

“We’re going to learn how to play with fucking fire?” Ernie punched the air triumphantly.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kurt shook his head, “That took me three months of non-stop training to begin to grasp, and it is a skill I have been honing since.”

“So that’s a no on the fire breathing?” Justin groaned.

“Fire is difficult to control, it’s alive,” Kurt shook his head, “it is dangerous, it is consuming. To manipulate a fire charm without a wand is to open yourself up to burning every molecule in your body.”

“I’m a little afraid,” Justin whimpered.

“Your wand works the way it does because it is two distinct parts,” Kurt explain, trying his hardest to sound reassuring, “the core channels magic from within you, the wood controls and guides it. When you cast a spell, every cell in your body is ignited and works in unison with your wand to project your will.” He fixed an imaginary stray hair, “when you cast a spell without a wand, the same thing happens but because the magic is spread so thinly over a so many cells the effects are negligible.

“In order to begin to see results, you can concentrate that power to just your skin cells,” Kurt threw both his wands to Hermione, “ _ignis_. And you begin radiate heat.” There was a resounding gasp, “concentrate that further to just the palms of your hands and…” two streams of blue flame burst forward from his extended hands, “then, when you’re truly advanced.”

Kurt extended a lone finger and the turret of flames shot from there but were broader and hotter than before, one cell working for all of them. There was a resounding round of applause, “picking a particular cell.” Kurt opened his mouth and the flames shot out of in a plume that brightened the room.

“Kurt is just showing off now,” Hermione shook her head and handed him back his wands, eying the second one suspiciously- her eyes told him they would be have a conversation about his masterpiece later. She turned to the toom at large, “we’re going to be covering a simpler version of that art; because the more complex and advanced a spell is, the more you need to concentrate it to fewer cells to make it work.”

“Depending on how much it needs to be directed,” Kurt clarified, “if the magic is to be cast upon a specific object then it requires more work; _alohamora_ would require the magic to be directed to the lock in question.”

“But the shielding charm would be more effective and require the minimum concentration,” Hermione smirked, “maximum power.”

“Because it is undirected, it doesn’t require any cell section when dealing with a beginner spellcaster,” Kurt smiled politely, “if you cast the spell without any form of direction, you could survive a first year’s attempt at hexing you.”

“What if you want to stop, I don’t know… a death eater’s attempt to kill you?”

“Always asking the right questions Lisa,” he beamed, “Then, your best bet would be to project it, the higher your concentration, the better.”

“Let’s start small,” Hermione raised a silencing finger, “think of your skin.” She went still and closed her eyes, “close your eyes if it helps, allow every sense to fade away and only touch to remain.”

“It sounds pretentious as fuck and like we’re pulling your leg but bear with us,” Kurt assured them, he and Hermione recited the instructions the way they had the previous day with Tracey, “this is the key, blanking out parts of yourself so that there is only the medium.”

“When you can feel the finest hairs on your skin moving in time with the slightest breeze,” Hermione release a breath, “you’re ready.”

“ _Stupify_ ,” Kurt pointed his ebony wand in her direction.

Hermione glared in his direction, “ _protego maxima_.”

The spell had no effect on her, “that was unprojected, but limited to her skin; this is not the ideal way to use the art but a good place to start.”

“ _Aguamenti_ ,” a spout of water shot from Kurt’s wand, Hermione extended her hands and said the incarnation which caused the water to rebound of an invisible shield. Kurt smiled broadly, “As always, there is always room for creativity.” Kurt ran toward the wall, his skin incensed, “ _Protego maxima_.”

Kurt jumped and punched the wall so hard his fist left an indent, “there he goes, showing off again.” Hermione shook her head, “but he’s right, what we lack in skill we must make up for with creativity.”

“Pair up,” Kurt spoke without turning from the wall, watching the crater he’d created repair itself, “Alternate between yourselves as to who is windlessly protecting themselves and who is casting hexes, start small and work your way up.”

Kurt watched as any trace that he’d punched the wall disappeared, “none of the juniors are here.”

“They’d only hurt themselves,” Kurt shook his head, “wasn’t worth having them here if they weren’t going to learn anything.”

“You mastered this in second year,” Hermione countered.

“And I’m a protégé,” Kurt shrugged, not turning to face her, “took me three months of broken bones and embarrassment to master this skill, I’m made of the right stuff.” He touched the wall, the brick façade was cool on his fingertips, “failing at this would only break their confidence and spirit, we can’t have them thinking they are less in the coming days.”

“Fair,” he didn’t need to see her to know she was nodding.

He could hear the question burning in her chest, “Ask or you’ll never know.”

“When were you going to show it to me?”

Kurt shook his head, “this isn’t it.”

He handed her the wand over his shoulder and she analysed it, “Looks a lot like it, what is this one?”

“Grindylow horn,” Kurt answered, nonchalantly.

“I’d ask where you acquired that… but I know the answer,” Hermione scoffed.

“You’d be wrong.”

“This isn’t from Charlie?”

Kurt shook his head, “Harry got him into all of your heads because of one afternoon, the horn was acquired on my behalf by Remus Lupin.”

“Wow,” Hermione handed the wand back to him, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Kurt smirked, “you’re all just too excitable.”

“You indulge us too much, allow us too much free reign,” Hermione shook her head, “Our freedom to engage in your personal business has made us feral.” She gasped, clasping her hand over her mouth in shame, “ungovernable.”

“You’re all just curious,” Kurt’s tone was impassive, “I can’t blame you for behaviour I have nurtured- I’m not exactly in a conventional arrangement.” Kurt chuckled, “we all act in each other’s best interest, you guys think you know who would be best for me. It’s cute.”

“I know you so well,” Hermione shook her head, “why don’t I know this?”

“Because it’s a part of yourself you don’t know,” Kurt smiled at his best friend, turning to her for the first time, “You never wanted to go that far with Anthony and you never got the time to wade in that deep with Viktor. You’ve never been in love the way I have, the way I’m looking to love again.”

“I can’t say I have,” she shook her head.

Kurt took her hand, “I’m looking for that again, there is no set way of finding it but I will look everywhere I can.”

“Do you ever think our lives are a bit much?” Hermione groaned, “like we’re always firing all the pistons at every minute of every day?”

“Is there any other way to live?”

“I suppose not,” Hermione shrugged, “not for us at least.”

“Heather decided not to drop out,” Kurt shrugged.

“Heather?”

“Pregnant girl, morally opposed to abortion,” Kurt explained, “Remember, I told you that Mandy told me but that if asked you should say Lisa told you.”

“Oh, right,” Hermione nodded, “is she going to raise the kid here at Hogwarts?”

“She’s giving it up for adoption,” Kurt smiled, “I felt badly about telling everyone and so I went to speak to her, I didn’t tell her I told everyone.”

“That wouldn’t be sensible.”

“The whole thing wasn’t sensible,” Kurt shook his head, “I even dissuaded her of the idea that it was Lisa who told everyone.”

“Look at you,” Hermione quirked a suggestive brow, “First you forgave the Slytherins for not having done anything, then Mandy and now Lisa. What have you become?”

“I see you decided not to mention Hipster Weasley this time,” Kurt smirked.

She shook her head, “we bring him up so much I think we might be in love with him.”

“A notion I would support, especially Ron,” Kurt chuckled at his own joke before he made it, “I hear incest is best, one should put their brother to the test.”

“You’re fucking disgusting,” Hermione gaped at him, “I wonder what Finn thinks of that sentiment.”

“I wonder if Finn thinks,” Kurt chortled.

 _I heard that_ , the boy boomed from across the room.

Kurt rolled his eyes, _I don’t care what you can hear_.

 _I have feelings you know_ , the boy flashed him a puppy-dog face.

 _I know_ , Kurt nodded, _and they are Padma’s problem_.

 _I hate you_.

Kurt sighed, _to know me is to hate me_.

“What did you say to Heather?” Hermione’s voice pulled him from his squabble with Finn.

“I gave her options,” Kurt shrugged, “let her know that she could have everything she wanted and stick by her convictions.”

“You’re quite thoughtful,” Hermione smiled at him, “no matter what people say.”

“Why?” Kurt heard a faint thumping but ignored it, “what are people sayin-”

His words were cut short by a second, louder thumping that broke a hole in the far wall. Kurt cut through the crowd, with Hermione in tow, to meet up with Harry, Ron and the rest of leadership at the front of the group. Kurt took a further step forward and a door formed where the hole was and through it entered Professor Umbridge, Argus Filch and the Inquisitorial Squad. With them was Cho Chang, the word ‘sneak’ branded on her forehead in large clear script.

“I’m sorry-” Cho began but Kurt raised a silencing finger.

“Don’t say anything more,” Kurt shook his head.

“Mr Potter, Mr Hummel,” Professor Umbridge spat their names, her wand pointed in their direction, “I might have known I’d find you two here.”

“And where is it you think you’ve found us?” Kurt cocked a hip and crossed his arms expectantly.

“I know you two are behind this…” she glared at them, “this gross violation of Educational Decree number twenty-three.”

“They aren’t behind it,” Neville spoke out, “I orchestrated this whole.”

“We did it together,” Mandy nodded, “we’re outlaws driven mad by love and power.”

Neville turned to her with eyes the size of saucers, “Love?”

“Of course,” Mandy smirked, “why else would we do something this stupid.”

“I helped,” Lisa spoke up, “I was a large part of making this what it is today.”

“Bring Hummel, Potter, Weasley, Granger and whoever these three are,” she turned on her heels but stopped just short of the door, “bring the muggleborn brother.”

“I have a name,” Finn growled as they were muscled by the inquisitorial squad.

As they were led through the maze of corridors to the headmaster’s office, no doubt to lay this at Professor Dumbledore’s feet. Nobody dared to touch Kurt, his demeanour was stony and the air around him was frigid. They stopped at the gilded gargoyle and a hand rested on his shoulder, Kurt glared at the fingers and they started to turn blue.

“Why would you do this?” the voice was a whispered growl in his ear.

“Because it’s what is right,” Kurt’s breath misted before his very eyes.

Hermione’s hand took his, “Kurt.” He looked into her warm brown eyes and beamed remorse, “you’re making it really cold.”

“I’ve never done that before,” Kurt shook his head, “I’m not even doing it on purpose.”

“Everything is going to be okay,” she rubbed comforting circles into the back of his hand.

Kurt looked around the elevator, “I’ll fix this.”

Professor Umbridge giggled to herself, “I think you’ve done enough.”

“I think I’ll be the judge of my limits,” Kurt snapped back, not even knowing how he would begin to walk back all that he had done. His doubts didn’t stop a smile from spreading across his face as he climbed the stairs to the headmaster’s office, where he would be tried and sentenced.

Kurt was second to enter the headmaster’s office after Professor Umbridge, “We’ve uncovered your plot, Dumbledore.”

“Ah,” Professor Dumbledore nodded, “I suppose the authorities will be on their way then.”

“The Minister will be coming personally to escort you to Azkaban,” Professor Umbridge’s tone was smug.

“Professor Dumbledore,” Harry interjected, “I can’t let you take the blame.”

“My boy,” the elderly wizard shook his head, “we all know that the work you and your friends have done was done at my insistence.”

“I’m Miranda Brocklehurst,” a firm voice spoke over the tension that filled the room, “most people call me Mandy but I am never part of ‘sundry’! I am Mandy Brocklehurst, that is Lisa Turpin and this is Neville Longbottom.”

“Maybe if your government wasn’t so dehumanising, people wouldn’t be trying to overthrow you,” Lisa snapped, she took a step forward but Millicent held her in place, “You signed your fate when you decided to come after my boyfriend.”

“And hide what happened to my boyfriend,” Kurt glared at her but was interrupted by the arrival of the Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebot and a third auror unknown to Kurt.

“I knew all along that you would try something like this Albus,” The Minister spoke in a terse but proud tone, “Delores, dispatch an owl to the Prophet at once. Tell them that Dumbledore has been taken to Azkaban for conspiring to overthrow the Ministry.”

“Azkaban?” Professor Dumbledore smirked.

“Yes,” the Minister smirked smugly, “that’s the penalty for treason.”

“Professor-” Harry shouted but Kurt shot him a silencing look.

“Oh dear,” the headmaster shook his head as he got to his feet, he slowly circled his desk as he spoke, “While I take full credit for what has transpired here and I will admit to abusing my power to compel these students to form this… club, the parchment does say Dumbledore’s army after all.” He crossed his arms and grinned, “but do not for a moment mistake my admission of guilt for my agreement to come peacefully.”

“What are you saying?”

“What I’m saying is that your owl to the Prophet should say that I evaded capture,” he winked and Fawkes flew to him and they exploded into a plume of flames.

There was a moment of chaos as the aurors moved to capture the long-gone headmaster, over which Lisa turned to the group in awe, “did he wink at us?”

~0~

Kurt carefully copied the prescribed phrase in perfect calligraphy onto his parchment, he thought the barbarous torture instrument to be little more than annoyance as he moved the quil over the parchment in controlled but elaborate script; _I must not conspire to overthrow the government_. Kurt objected to the premise of the statement and had said so on multiple occasions, claiming that the school and Ministry had no business prescribing to his political beliefs; he could overthrow the Government if he wanted to, so long as he didn’t break any school rules in his attempts. They had been working on their punishment for the last three hours and Kurt knew that it would soon be over, as much as Acting Headmistress Umbridge might enjoy keeping them from supper, she couldn’t keep a large group of students from dinner without causing a riot.

He listened to the chorus of winces as his peers completed their punishment, each taking a break to glare at Acting Headmistress Umbridge. She, in turn, alternated between scowling at Harry and Kurt; Harry was in cahoots with Professor Dumbledore, an equal in their conspiracy against Minister Fudge, and thus the source of most of her anguish. Kurt was a wild card in her eyes, and he continued to undermine her authority but because he did it through legitimate channels she couldn’t quite pin anything on him. It had been him who had kept her from ascending to the position of Headmaster, her appointment required board approval and Kurt had the authority to veto all board decisions- a muscle he hadn’t exercised in while. Given the glares, Kurt suspected that word of his veto had made its way back to her, as such he made sure to smile at her every time their eyes met.

“That will be enough for this afternoon,” the toadish woman spoke with a satisfied lilt in her voice.

Kurt signed his name at the top of the parchment and left it on the desk despite there being no instruction to do so, he wanted Professor Umbridge to be aware that he could not be shamed for his actions. Kurt was last to leave the detention venue, to his utter disgust he found a group of students circling a sobbing Cho Chang, while the rest were simply ignoring her.

“What on earth is going on here?” his voice cut through the noise like a hot knife through butter.

“Here she is,” Sue Li shook her head, “the traitor.”

Izzy shook her head, “I let her borrow my lipgloss.”

“I don’t know why she would show her face here,” Zacharias Smith spat.

“I just wanted to say I was sorry,” Cho sobbed.

“You’re sorry?” Zacharias growled, “that’s the best you can do? Look at our hands!” He showed her the back of her hand where their designated slogan was freshly scratched into his flesh.

“I never thought this would come of it.”

“What did you think would happen?” the blond growled.

“That’s enough from you Zacharias,” Kurt snapped.

The Hufflepuff boy smirked, “you’re in for it now, you messed with the wrong bitch.”

“No, that would be your mistake,” Kurt cut through the group and threw a comforting arm over Cho’s slumped shoulder, “Whatever happened to kindness, it’s supposed to be one of the core values of your house, but then I guess Hufflepuff’s policy for taking all those who wish to learn leaves them with some of the desirables.”

“You’re defending her,” Izzy balked at him.

“What is done, is done,” Kurt shook his head, “it is up to us to deal with what is happening.”

Zacharias chortled malevolently, “she’s the one that’s caused everything that’s happening.”

“We were all willing participants in Dumbledore’s Army, none of us can absolve ourselves of guilt.”

“Watch me,” he scoffed.

“Then blame Hermione Granger for coming up with the idea, blame Harry Potter for convincing you to join,” he let out a defeated sigh, “blame me for organising the whole thing.”

“We’re not going to blame you Kurt,” Sue shook her head, “I just want to know why she did it, why she betrayed us.”

 “Because I told her to,” Kurt’s face remained stony as they gasped and gaped at him, “How do you like those apples?”

“You wouldn’t,” Sue shook her head.

“I did,” he nodded, “Why do you think the children were absent? So they wouldn’t face the same punishment we are right now.”

Zacharias shook his head in disbelief, “You’re just saying that so we’ll leave her alone.”

“You were going to leave Cho alone or face my wrath, no reason needed,” Kurt shook his head, “I want you to go off and tell everyone that it was I who planned the downfall of Dumbledore’s Army.” A wicked smile spread across Kurt’s beautiful face, “I want to see if all the bullies who’ve been giving Cho a hard time will dare to test their skills against mine, or were they just brave because Cho is pathetic.”

“You just called her pathetic but we’re the bullies?” Izzy quirked a curious brow.

“I can’t change that about her but I’m not the one picking on her,” Kurt shrugged.

“Whatever,” Sue rolled her eyes, “maybe now people will stop shouting insults at me.”

“White people,” Izzy rolled her eyes, “if one more person tells me they heard I was dating Anthony Rickett I will burst into flames.”

“I’m not going anywhere near that one,” Kurt raised his hands in surrender, “but at least you’re being mistaken for pretty people, people often mistake me for Harry Potter.” He shuddered, “a first year called me ‘Slytherin Potter’.”

They simply stared blankly at him, not ready to laugh with him, and turned away. Kurt unhooked his arm from Cho’s shoulder and smiled empathetically at the sad girl he’d once called a romantic rival.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she shook her head, “not that I’m not grateful-”

“Save your gratitude,” Kurt flashed a cold smile, “I was always going to clear your name, this is merely a manifestation of that.”

“For everything,” Cho corrected, “my mum’s job.”

“I was always going to leak the existence of Dumbledore’s Army,” Kurt pursed his lips, “this way some good came of it.”


	16. Chapter 16

Kurt sipped his coffee and stared blankly at the horizon but was startled before he could let his thoughts wander by Hermione jabbing him in the ribs, "What?"

"Don't do that!"

"Do what?" Kurt squealed defensively, "Study?"

"We both know that wasn't you studying," she glared at him, "That was you staring wistfully into the sunset."

"It's mid day," Kurt countered.

"You know what I mean," she rolled her eyes, "you say something like 'the wind is changing' and then you turn into golden dust and I'm the only one who has ever heard of you tomorrow."

"What does that even mean?"

"People who stare away into the horizon the way you do tend to be gone by the next act of a story," Hermione sighed in defeat, "Ron, tell him."

"I have no idea what you are on about," the red haired boy shook his head, "All I know is that I paid passing attention to my education for the last five years and I'm now going to fail my OWLs, I think I'm going to go get one of those supplements Anthony is using."

"Don't bother," Kurt shook his head, "Goldstein is a snake oil salesman."

"I'm okay with snake oil," Ron shrugged.

Kurt smiled weakly, "that means it's fake."

"When did we learn that?"

"Primary school?" Kurt shrugged.

"Wait a damn minute," Hermione interjected, "Harry, do you have nothing to say?"

"I have plenty to say," the boy shrugged indifferently, "most of it comes from a place of stupidity."

"I've never called you stupid," Kurt raised his hands in surrender, "I've implied it at every given opportunity but never said it outright because I don't truly believe it."

"Those were my words," Harry assured him, "I have a lot of questions and very hurtful things to say because… nobody knows the bigger picture or the grand plan but you." He fiddled with his quill, "you and Dumbledore planned this thing… I don't get it and I kind of want to speak from my place of ignorance but I'm a young man deserving of a blowjob who knows better."

"Lisa will hear of this."

"Yes, how mature," Hermione spat sarcastically, "but am I the only one concerned that we might lose Kurt?"

"Kurt promised he'd be here till the end," Ron gave a small smile, "he wouldn't disappear into the night and leave his work undone, not after he potentially made everything so much worse."

Harry's eyebrows shot up to his hairline, creasing his gash, "How much worse?"

"Well," Ron shrugged, "given everything that has happened we're working under the assumption that there is something linking you and You-Know-Who, what if Kurt contaminated that by taking your place in the final task?"

"I definitely contaminated that," Kurt nodded.

"So what does that mean?"

"I might have made him immortal in the process of saving Harry from his presumed fate," he shrugged dismissively, "nothing I can't fix later."

The Boy Who Lived shook his head in disbelief, "What does that even mean?"

"That he'll be around later to fix it," Ron smirked reassuringly.

"You didn't think to mention this when I was trying to stop you from looking for the deplorable word?"

"You would have totally overreacted," Kurt rolled his eyes, "you always overreact."

"I do not!"

" _Oh my gosh, it's got my Kurt_?"

"That was me," Ron hung his head.

Harry crossed his arms, "See, I don't overreact."

Kurt grabbed his hand and ran the pad of his thumb over the spot where the scar pronouncing 'I must not tell lies' should have been, a sad smile on his face. Harry tried to pull the hand free but Kurt tightened his grip, "you could have kept quiet."

"That was one time."

"It was also the time I told Professor McGonagall."

"Fine, twice."

"Professor Snape doesn't like you and you assume it is because he is evil."

"Technically he was evil," Harry grinned, "just not at that particular moment."

"What about when Draco read the writing pertaining to the Chamber of Secrets out aloud and that made him the Heir of Slytherin?"

"You can stop now," Harry nodded, he gestured in Hermione's direction, "Why is she looking at you like you're Viktor Krum?"

"She never looked at Krum that way," Kurt smirked triumphantly.

Ron looked up from his studying and matched Kurt's smirk, "She's realizing there isn't a chance she'll lose him till he runs off into the sunset with, as she believes, Terry."

"Terry and I aren't on speaking terms right now," Kurt rolled his eyes, Harry punched the air triumphantly, "Could we not do this, just for today."

"I'll never mention it ever again if it makes you happy," Ron shrugged, "I think we've overstayed our welcome in your intimate business."

"Thank you Ronald," Kurt sighed, closing his notebook and passing it to him, "You need this more than I do, I will kill charms anyway."

"Did Professor Flitwick slip you a copy of the exam?" a bored, disinterested voice spoke from behind him.

"Oh dear," Kurt turned and smiled broadly, "You and I both know that I don't need to cheat on a Charms exam."

"You also don't need to overthrow the government but you've recently added that to your rapsheet," she shrugged, "Who knows what you're capable of in this moral free fall you've chosen to allow."

"It's cute how you ever thought Kurt had morals," Ron giggled, "it's an easy mistake to make, he just has really good manners."

"Nobody is talking to you Weasley," Tracey knitted her brow, "same way I'm not talking to Crabbe, I don't want to be associated with people who are aiming for  _Eligibles_."

"I am quite the up and coming eligible bachelor," Ron smirked.

Tracey giggled and Kurt shook his head, "that's not what it means, it means receiving either an Eligible to Repeat or an Eligible for Concession."

"The latter somehow managing to be worse than the earlier," Tracey shuddered.

"I still don't know what any of that means."

"What's wrong with Granger?" Tracey peered curiously at the brown haired girl, "usually she takes over explaining things."

"She's too giddy because she's found a love that'll stand the test of time," Ron giggled.

"Alexander Bembridge?"

"Kurt Elizabeth Hummel," Ron countered, "She was afraid he was going to leave her to continue his efforts to overthrow the government."

"Kurt is too focused on placing first this year to run off into the sunset to become a revolutionary," Tracey scoffed.

"Kurt?" Hermione raised her head and knitted her brow, "First?"

"Yes babes," Kurt grinned malevolently, "My potions marks will be better than ever, Tracey has been tutoring me in transfiguration and so I will be bringing the fire on that front."

"No," she snapped, "I'm the brightest witch of the age, you can't take that from me."

"Wow girl," Tracey smirked, "You need to bring it back a few levels, that 'brightest witch' thing is only cool when other people say it."

"I'm just saying," Hermione let out a defeated sigh, "we've established a comfortable dynamic over the last five years."

"If you ignore second year," Kurt interjected.

"Thank you Kurt," she rolled her eyes, "everyone was doing perfectly well ignoring that little detail."

"Hummel and I will follow that precedent," Tracey smirked, "we'll ignore your streak of being first in our battle for the top spot."

"Am I not even in the running?"

"Let's just say first in our year will be in Slytherin," she countered.

"I doubt that," Hermione shook her head, "You two are discounting Mandy and Padma. Besides, I'm still here."

"Padma has had her mind scrambled by love."

"And Miranda is too focused on her Muggle Studies OWL to care about anything else," Tracey shrugged.

"She's going to be a…" Kurt stopped short of completing their too often repeated line on Mandy's future plans. He glared at Tracey, "Miranda?"

"Yes," she nodded, "that's what Mandy is short for."

"I know for what Mandy is short," Kurt snapped.

"So, I don't get the question."

"Why is she  _Miranda_  and I'm still Hummel?" Kurt whined, "She only assisted in my attempt to overthrow the government!"

"Hummel," she scoffed, "You're being so dramatic."

"Don't say that," Harry groaned, "it'll only make him drag on and explain endlessly why his feelings are justified."

"Ew, it's talking to me."

"Be nice Tracey," Ron scolded, "Harry hasn't done anything to you."

"Voldemort hasn't done anything to me either," she shrugged, "by that logic I should be nice to him as well."

"Tracey has never met Harry," Hermione explained, "He just started talking to her without even introducing himself."

Ron gasped, "that might fly with Lisa but you need to have manners."

"Probably thought you'd know who he was," Hermione shrugged.

"Expecting her to say 'bless my soul, it's Harry Potter'."

Harry made a point of rolling his eyes, "I thought we'd met, they're always talking about you; are you Kurt's friend, aren't you?" He shrugged, "it all gets confusing, really."

"Was that a subtle way of bringing up how popular you are?"

"Yes," Tracey rolled her eyes, "I'm friends with Hummel, why is that so hard for everyone to believe?" she crossed her arms as the group gaped at the pair of them, "Pansy had the same reaction, he was only an accessory to an attempt to overthrow the government! He's the only person I know who would let me watch them dump someone."

"I can't believe it," Hermione shook her head, "I thought Kurt had invented your friendship in his mind."

Ron shook his head, "But we've never known Kurt to exaggerate, we should have trusted his claims."

"Whom is Kurt breaking up with?"

"Everyone," Tracey grinned, "We started with Goyle, I hope one of them cries."

"What do you mean by 'everyone'?"

"Keep up Granger," she snorted derisively, "Hummel is kicking everyone in his little fan club to the curb."

"What?" Hermione climbed over Harry to grab Kurt by the shoulders, "No, not Terry! I have fifteen galleons riding on Kerry."

"That sounds like your problem," Kurt shrugged.

"If you do this, Mandy wins," Harry explained to him, "you don't want that, you hate Mandy."

"I don't hate anyone," Kurt smiled, "I am filled with-"

"Don't start that with us!" Harry snapped, "I have money and pride riding on this." He glared at Ron, "What do you have to say about your Kurt's behavior?"

"I respect Kurt's choices," Ron shrugged, "I'm just curious as to what catalysed this decision?"

"You don't get to use 'catalyse' correctly at a time like this," Hermione snapped, her voice getting smaller, "I'm losing him."

"I'm right here."

"But I'm not watching you break Goyle and Terry's hearts," she shrugged.

"You're not even into that kind of thing," Kurt shook his head.

She shook her head, "You didn't even tell me about it."

"He didn't tell me about it either," Tracey shrugged, "He got a letter that said something about dusty trains, I asked him what it meant and he told me he had to break up with all his fans."

"She invited herself to watch."

"What do trains have to do with your desire of suitors?" Hermione furrowed her brow.

"Now," Harry twiddled his thumbs, "is it all suitors or just Hogwarts suitors getting the boot, so to speak."

"Nobody thinks that was smart," Kurt giggled. The group at large stared at him, he shrugged, "Noah is going back to America, so that's over."

"He's just leaving?" Ron gaped.

"He asked me for a reason to stay," Kurt buffed his nails on his lapel, "I told him he would be exposed to more black magic than ever before during the rise of Voldemort."

"That's not what he wanted to hear from you," Ron rolled his eyes, "You were supposed to tell him how much you cared."

"I know what he wanted me to say," Kurt glared at the ginger haired boy, "I was simply unwilling." Kurt pursed his lips, "I realized that I wouldn't piss on any of these young men to put them out if they were on fire."

"Imagery," Hermione shuddered.

"Just being honest," Kurt flipped his hair with a dismissive shrug, "As the nicest person I know, it is only right that I set them free so they might settle for someone lesser than me." Kurt preened under the glow of his own praise, "My benevolence knows no bound."

"Your benevolence is imaginary," Tracey scoffed.

"My benevolence is absolute."

Hermione shook her head, "If you were truly benevolent, you wouldn't let Mandy win this way."

"Kurt, before you go."

"Yes Ronald?"

He scratched the stubble on his chin, "What's an  _eligible_?"

~0~

Kurt chewed his rock cakes as he listened to Hagrid complain about Professor Dumbledore's absence from Hogwarts, he chose not to comment about the large man's obvious confusion of the man and the institution. He sipped his tea slowly and listened to each of his friends' attempt to comfort their Care for Magical Creatures professor.

"If you get fired," Kurt spoke for the first time, "Will I have to resubmit my Care for Magical Creatures assignment?"

"No," Hagrid answered, taking a break from his whining. The man sniffed loudly, "I've spoken to Professor Grubblyplank and she's promised to keep your grades the same."

"Then we need not worry," Kurt smirked, sipping the last of his tea as his friends gaped at him.

"Kurt," Ron was the first with the courage to speak, "what have we said about other people's feelings."

"They have them," Kurt shrugged, "Why do you bring it up?"

"I'm not sure if you can tell, but Hagrid is upset."

"Do you people ever listen to anything I say?"

Ron rubbed at the back of his neck nervously, "It's a right to remain silent, Right?"

"I'm going to be honest," Harry shrugged, "I'm usually too busy brooding to internalize everything you say, you say a lot of things."

"Hermione?"

She rolled her eyes, "I'm taking a break from exposition."

"I've said this before, Professor Umbridge doesn't have the authority to remove Hagrid from the school grounds. She'll need board approval to do that, and I have the power to veto such a decision." Kurt got to his feet and picked up his Fendi, "If I could be excused, I have a prior arrangement waiting."

"But I've still got something to show you," Hagrid was slack jawed as he spoke.

"I can see it another day," Kurt flashed a curt smile, "I have an appointment with Professor Snape to be getting to."

"With Snape?" Ron gasped.

"What on earth for?" Harry echoed his concern.

"He's Kurt's head of house," Hermione shrugged, "Kurt is one of his house's prefects, it's not odd for the two of them to be meeting."

"Besides," Kurt fixed an imaginary stray hair, "let us never forget that I learned most of the magic I taught the DA from Professor Snape."

"Is that so?" Harry furrowed his brow.

"Yes," Kurt pursed his lips as a challenge, "Professor Quirrell couldn't string a sentence together, Gilderoy Lockhart was incompetent, Professor Snape taught Professor Lupin's class as often as he did, and Professor Moody was distracted by his plot to get to you." Kurt had his hands on his hips at this point, "detention with Professor Snape during my first three years at Hogwarts is the source of all of our knowledge in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"So you're going to learn Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

"No," Kurt shook his head, "I'm not sure if you've forgotten but we're about to write our OWL and move on to the next stage in our lives."

"So," Ron nodded, "You're going to get help in potions? Can I come?"

"No," Kurt let out a tired breath, "I'm going for career counseling, you'll have to do it at some point too." He flashed a smile, "auf wiedersehen."

Kurt was brisk in his walk, climbing the stairs back to the castle as quickly as he could without losing his composure. He stormed through the halls of the castle, the students hanging around the corridors stared and whispered as he passed; Kurt had given them quite a bit to talk about of late and he knew very well that people were going to talk.

He was descending the stairs toward the dungeon when a sixth year Ravenclaw boy stopped him, "What's up Hummel?"

"Why?" Kurt crossed his arms, "what'd you hear?"

"Nothing you haven't heard."

"Then why are you talking to me?" Kurt rolled his eyes, "why are you acting like we're friends?"

"We could be friends," the young man reached out toward him, Kurt smacked his hand away, "I heard you're rotating your roster."

"If your hands come anywhere near me again, it'll be the last time you have hands."

His friends chuckled behind him, "From what I hear you're quite easy."

"I'm easy, not desperate," Kurt smirked, "I can do better."

Kurt started to walk away but stopped short, "Let people know I've found my next great love, tell them that's why I turned you down."

Kurt left with a spring in his step from knocking someone down a peg and speaking his truth. He retrieved his journal from his room, nervous of them mess he'd catalysed; he knocked on Professor Snape's office door, going over the notes he'd prepared.

"Enter," the man's tone was neutral. Kurt was surprised to see Professor Umbridge standing behind his head of house, "I hope you don't mind, but the Acting Headmistress has asked to observe the meeting."

"I do mind," Kurt rolled his eyes, "but I know I don't have a choice in the matter."

"As Headmistress-"

"Acting Headmistress," Kurt corrected her.

Professor Umbridge's eyes went wide, "I beg your pardon?"

"You're not Headmistress," Kurt explained, "You're acting in the role, but you can stay."

"Let's begin," Professor Snape wove his fingers together, speaking before Professor Umbridge could gather her thoughts, "what is your aspiration in life?"

"My aspiration is to change the world," Kurt smiled, "I'm going to destroy intolerance through work in public service."

"I don't understand," Professor Umbridge tilted his head condescendingly.

Kurt turned toward her with a scowl on his face, "I'm going to be Minister for Magic."

Her face paled, "I beg your pardon?"

"I'm going to have Cornelius Fudge's job in the not too distant future," Kurt rubbed his hands together malevolently, "And things in Britain will change for the better."

"My dear Mr Hummel," the Professor giggled, regaining her composure, "if your ambition is to rise through the ranks of the Ministry and ascend to the highest office in the land, I must question your choices. Primarily, your choice in friends and where you stand on the important issues."

"I'm sorry but I'm going to need you to be more specific," Kurt mirrored her condescending manner, "do you mean my muggleborn and half-blood friends, or do you mean Harry Potter?" Kurt pursed his lips, "Or is this about the fact that I'm not a small minded bigot?"

"Mr Hummel," the toadish woman gasped, "I'm not sure what you're insinuating."

"It would be difficult to chance on an intimation in my speech," Kurt smiled condescendingly, "my inference was obvious."

"Why, I never!"

"You have now," Professor Snape interjected, taking back his meeting. He flashed Kurt a crooked smile, "Mr Hummel, I commend the work you've done in preparation for taking on the arduous climb to Minister for Magic."

"Thank you."

"You may be the top student in Civics but I do not think it will be necessary moving forward beyond your OWLs," the potions master flipped his hair as he spoke, "You've taken on a few leadership positions already and those will grow as you matriculate up the Hogwarts ladder of leadership, to the top."

"The top?" Kurt quirked a curious brow, "Head Boy?"

"If you keep your nose clean."

"Which you've failed to do," Professor Umbridge chuckled, "let us not forget that you were at the centre of an attempt to overthrow the ministry."

"Allegedly," Professor Snape snapped back, "While Dumbledore might have given you something resembling a confession, there is no evidence to support the claim that any students were complacent in the plot."

"If not a Civics NEWT, what should I take?"

"That would be dependent on your intended route of entry," the man tilted his head, leaving the question unasked.

"I've worked in the Auror's office, doing research," Kurt rolled his eyes, "that was stupid, I don't want to be a glorified policeman." Kurt buffed his nails against his cloak, "I'm thinking, I'll go to Uni; I'll study politics or something, and skip through the grunt work."

"Then your NEWTs don't really matter," Professor Snape nodded, "only that you take Muggle Studies."

Professor Umbridge cleared her throat, "it was my express instruction that students not be encouraged to select Muggle Studies, as the Ministry intends on phasing the subject out."

"And as Professor McGonagall informed you," Professor Snape spoke between gritted teeth, his irritation showing, "Subjects offered by Hogwarts are subject to board approval."

Kurt took note of Professor Snape's message for him, the man was letting him know to keep his ear to the ground for any board activity and exercise his veto. Kurt nodded his head and seamlessly steered the conversation back to the matter at hand, "I have given thought to which NEWT subjects I'll be selecting."

"Is that so?" Professor Snape quirked a curious brow.

"Yes," Kurt nodded, "I'll be taking Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Dark Arts, History of Magic, Muggle Studies, Magical Theory and Alchemy."

"You are aware that both Potions and Alchemy require an Outstanding pass in your Potions OWL?"

"And have I produced anything short of that during my tenure at Hogwarts?" Kurt pursed his lips.

"Touché," the potions master smirked, "I was correct in assuming that this would be one of the easiest of all my students' guidance meetings to complete."

"Second only to Tracey Davis," Kurt nodded with a chuckle.

~0~

"My little pretties," the blonde haired woman smiled broadly at them, "How lovely to see you again." She leaned forward, "Kurtie, tragic what happened to Cedric."

"I will rip the eyeballs right out of your skull if you bring him up again," Hermione growled.

"Bring it back a few levels Hermione," Kurt flashed a false smile, "thank you for your condolences Rita, it's troubling to think that is the closest to human emotion you will ever get."

"Touching," she flashed an equally false smile, "but I don't understand why you've summoned me. If memory serves, I was instructed never to return to Hogwarts and never to write about any of you."

"We're here to change the terms of your exile," Kurt smiled invitingly, "We'll let you start writing about us again-"

"We'll what?" Harry gasped.

"We'll let her write about us," Kurt turned to The Boy Who Lived, "we're going to tell her the truth of our supposed attempt to overthrow the ministry, she'll work her magic and make the article interesting, and we'll get the truth out there."

"For the most part," Hermione and Rita chorused, Hermione glared at the woman.

"What does that mean?" Harry glared as well, "that 'For the most part' bit?"

"She will keep the events leading up to Professor Dumbledore's transition into a fugitive lifestyle true to their occurrence," Kurt explained, "You will even tell her about the events of the third task."

"I will?"

"You will, and in return Rita will remain honest to the events," Kurt smirked, "but with regard to other details."

"The juicy details," Rita Skeeter purred.

"She will have limited reign to embellish on the matters such as that of my newly dissolved desire of suitors," Kurt smirked, turning to all present, "agreed?"

"I'm obviously scintillated," the journalist grinned, "I'm ever so excited to learn what a desire of suitors is."

Hermione bowed her head in shame, "Are you sure this is the best option we have?"

"Do you remember what it was like the last time she was writing about us?"

"I do," Hermione nodded, "I don't think you do though."

"I remember how willing people were to believe everything she wrote about us," Kurt's smile grew, "I'm simply using that willingness to our advantage."

"Fine," Hermione shook her head.

"Harry?" Kurt crossed his arms expectantly.

The Boy Who Lived crossed his arms as well, "she can't talk smack about Lisa, I won't have that."

"Lisa is boring," Kurt rolled his eyes, "her greatest secret is that she isn't strawberry blonde."

"It's not even a secret," Hermione shook her head, "you can smell the copper on her."

"Ginger?" Rita Skeeter teased, the pair nodded.

"So," Kurt smiled to himself, "we're all in?"

"Yes," Harry and Hermione chorused.

"Let's begin with the third task," Rita Skeeter smirked malevolently.

Harry recounted the events of that evening in the graveyard, he glossed over the summer and the Order of the Phoenix. He recounted his encounter with the dementors and the subsequent trial, Kurt interjected with his research team's findings and slipped in mention of Noah Puckerman. They discussed Professor Umbridge's unorthodox teaching methods and barbaric choice of punishment, her thinly veiled prejudices and ill treatment of the staff.

Kurt explained their motives in starting Dumbledore's Army, their foolish choice in naming the club, and the goings on in the club. They discussed Professor Umbridge's hunt for those participating in the club, her formation of the inquisitorial squad and Kurt's decision to dissolve the club. Kurt explained the way in which Professor Umbridge was blackmailing Cho Chang, and how Professor Dumbledore had taken the fall to protect them.

"Fine," Rita rolled her eyes impatiently, "I'll write it but…"

"Where are the good bits?" Hermione sighed.

"I don't mean to be that person but I was promised a story!"

Hermione took a deep breath, "Kurt was dating five people at once, we called it 'a desire of suitors'."

"Hermione and Viktor are still a thing but because of distance she's kind of got a thing with Alexander Bembridge," Kurt countered.

"Didn't take much for you two to turn on each other," Harry scoffed, "I'm seeing Lisa Turpin."

"Soon I will no longer be the brightest witch of my age," Hermione admitted with a shroud of shame, "Tracey Davis put me on notice."

"My real parents are Bellatrix and Rudolphus LeStrange," Kurt countered.

"I can explain why I know what kind of underwear Viktor Krum wears."

"I will tell you who I'm in love with and why it'll ruin one of my better friendships."

"Kurt!"

"Hermione!"

"What are you doing?"

"I'm protecting you."

"I'm protecting you from your truth."

"I'm protecting you from yourself."

"What do you mean?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're not ready."

"You don't want this out there," Kurt countered, "I've made peace with my parentage, you don't want everyone in the UK reading about you and Viktor."

"I don't…" she let out a defeated sigh, "I'm over compensating, am I losing you to Tracey Davis?"

"As if anyone else would have me," Kurt guffawed.

"Lisa gave me a handjob in the library," Harry shrugged.

"Harry!" Hermione and Kurt scolded in unison.

"If Lisa wanted that published, she would be here to tell Rita herself."

"You can't just be spreading that willy-nilly."

"This is why you lived under the stairs."

"She's studying in the library," Harry spoke in a calm tone, "and she told me I could say that." He narrowed his gaze, "The stairs thing doesn't work on you Hermione."

"Because I wasn't hurt as a child?"

"Because I didn't tell you that story."

Kurt shook his head, "Not your joke to make."

"I'm still here," Rita Skeeter chimed in.

"Oh," Kurt feigned surprise, "excuse us, do you have any questions?"

"I'd like to hear more about this 'Tracey Davis' person."

Kurt chewed his lip, "We didn't ask her if we could mention her."

"She's a total bitch who is trying to steal my best friend," Hermione glared at Kurt, "she deserves what she gets."

"We shouldn't," Kurt shook his head.

"You really shouldn't," Harry glowered.

"We will," Hermione grinned.

"I'll do it," Kurt explained, "you won't do her justice."

Hermione pursed her lips, "fine."

"So, she's like the best of the both of us," Kurt explained in a whisper.

"She's smart, pretty, dead on the inside," Hermione elaborated.

"But she's cool because she's black."

"That's not racist at all."

Kurt crossed his arms, "is it racist if it's a positive stereotype?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know?"

"This is how you lost your title as brightest witch of the age," Kurt uncrossed and re-crossed his arms, "since when do you not know things?"

"Aren't social cues and the like your area of expertise?"

"Touché," Kurt shrugged. He turned back to Rita, "Where were we?"

"I think I have more than enough for now," she nodded to herself, "Maybe we can talk about a follow-up article?"

"We'll contact you," Harry flashed a tightlipped smile, "based on your work on this article."

The blonde woman smiled, and shifted into her beetle form- presumably exiting the room. The room was silent for a good ten minutes, the three teenagers looking at each other, waiting for the other to affirm their ability to speak.

"What was that?" Harry broke the silence.

"The reason Ron wasn't in the room," Kurt smiled.

Hermione mirrored the gesture, "This story is going to be about the strain everything that has happened has had on our relationships this past year."

"Hermione and I have been practicing this distance thing for a while now," Kurt smirked.

"Kurt is wrong," she grinned malevolently, "I've become much needier."

"My acting isn't as good as hers," Kurt shrugged, "we tried it the other way, it didn't work out well."

"And Ron?"

"Would have tried to fix it," Hermione explained.

"Do you think of everything?"

"He also needed to study," Kurt shrugged, "he literally might fail his OWLs, he took too long to get into school."

"Wait," Harry twiddled his thumbs, "Were you guys racist or did you ask Tracey?"

"I'm almost certain stereotyping isn't something you can get permission for," Hermione shook her head.

Kurt smirked, "But we did get Tracey Davis's permission."

"And this isn't a gay thing?"

"I hate you!"

~0~

Kurt answered the questions on his History of Magic OWL with great care and detail, his script looping more due to the speed at which he was writing. He was trying to cast aside everything that was happening in the world around him; Mrs Weasley had been appalled to learn that he had been dating 'six' people, she had sent him a howler and he had sent one right back- asking her to allow him his youth by his own standards.

People at school were curious about the mystery gentleman alluded to in the article and they'd been hounding his friends, Tracey had asked if it had anything to do with the letter he'd received about the trains. Hermione had smugly told her that the man was a fictional ploy they had created to keep Rita in line, that the mystery was there to keep things working as they needed to be- down to the letter. Kurt hadn't felt like contradicting his best friend, letting her believe what kept her going, for the time being.

Ron was concerned about Hermione and Kurt's relationship, he had christened Tracey as the devil but without taking any action against her- too absorbed in his studies and the mad dash to pass his exams. The sentiment was echoed by many of those who thought themselves his friends, they wanted to know what was true and what was Rita Skeeter's imagination. The main problem with lying for too long- or omitting, in Kurt's case- was that people didn't believe when you told them the truth, no matter how genuine you tried to be.

Professor McGonagall had invited him for tea in her office, congratulating him on further embarrassing the government that had besmirched their names; she too had asked who his new beau was. Professor Umbridge had been livid at the publication but could not act to stop them or reprimand them due to the absence of any school or governmental rules prohibiting their actions, nor did she want to confirm that Rita Skeeter had made her ways onto the grounds without her permission. She could not stop them from acting, Kurt had reached out to Rita Skeeter about a follow up interview- wanting to goad her into publishing a column that speculated the contents of the next interview and wanting to Keep their current wave of celebrity alive.

Kurt concluded his essay, looking it over one last time. The penmanship was legible through out, a very important part of answering an exam question; the content was solid, he had studied hard and laid out his thoughts on the Giant Wars well. He was checking his spelling and grammar when he was startled by a bright flash, Kurt took a deep breath. The flash was followed by a load howl for joy, Kurt rolled his eyes- he was not surprised.

Kurt looked up with disappointment his most prominent emotion, there could only be two individuals with sufficiently little regard for formal education to pull off a stunt like this. Kurt met George's gaze first and shot him a glare that could only be indicative of the doom that was impending. The pair had crossed a line with him; as much as their actions were congruent with their image for chaos at Hogwarts, Kurt never expected for either to interrupt an exam- even if Umbridge was invigilating.

All Kurt could do was shake his head.


	17. Chapter 17

Kurt could only roll his eyes, he knew that he needed to be explicit if he wanted this pair to behave according to his standards but his OWLs had taken precedence and he'd have to deal with the repercussions. Fred and George flew overhead, creating a spectacular lightshow with the aide of fireworks.

What started out as a laughing matter for all turned to a special moment for Kurt's enjoyment when the fireworks- thanks to some directions from Fred and George- started pursuing members of the inquisitorial squad, this catalysed true chaos. Students got out of their seats and started running around the exam venue while Professor Umbridge called out for order. Kurt ignored everything, getting up to submit his test script; he didn't want to be lumped with any students written up for exam irregularities. Looking around at the chaos that had engulfed the room, Kurt couldn't help the smile that spread across his face; he had just finished writing his last OWL and was now, for all intents and purposes, a NEWT candidate- a sentiment made that much more real by his recent birthday.

"Mr Hummel!" the High Inquisitor screeched at him, "As a prefect, it is your duty to restore order!"

Kurt was pulled from his musings and back to the fallacy of his reality, his smile fell and he feigned shock, "What do I do?"

Professor Umbridge was too distracted by the tiny sparks burning holes in her pink pea coat to answer him, a larger spark knocked her pillbox hat off her head and left her hair singed. Kurt watched on in horror as all the small sparks in the great hall came together to form a Chinese dragon, not unlike one that one would see in a parade. He watched, eyes wide, as the dragon set its sights on Professor Umbridge and pursued her. She attempted to run toward the great hall doors but her stumpy legs could only carry her so fast, when the dragon caught up to her the crescendo of chaos came to its peak when the dragon exploded into a frenzy of sparks which proceeded to fire into the plaques displaying the innumerable educational decrees enacted by the High Inquisitor; this culminated in a flurry of broken glass and an explosion of splinters.

By this point, every student at Hogwarts had reared their head from their designated classrooms and dormitories to see the source of the disturbance. Kurt watched as Fred and George, who had been directing the commotion from above, exchanged a look and a nod of agreement; Kurt stared suspiciously as the pair swooped down such that they were an arm's length above people's heads, collecting high-fives and basking in the attention they were being showered in. They circled back and started to drop small packages; Kurt realised then that this was more than an act of rebellion, this was also a marketing event. He couldn't help smiling as he watched the twins flying off, filling the sky with their logo for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Kurt would never say this out loud to anyone, especially if somebody asked, but he was proud of Fred and George for attempting to turn their defining characteristics into a business for which they had found a niche market.

"Kurt," Hermione shook his shoulders, "it's Harry."

"Isn't it always?" He rolled his eyes as Hermione led him by the hand toward an opening in the crowd, "What about Harry?"

"I think he's having a seizure," her voice was panicked.

"And you came to get me?" Kurt snapped, "Get a teacher!"

"Neville's gone to get Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey," Hermione explained, gesturing to the boy, "but I thought you might also be able to help."

"I'm not a healer," Kurt shook his head, he got on his knees beside Harry's rigid body and looked into his lifeless eyes. Kurt chewed his lip, he knew this was probably a bad idea due to his inexperience but he placed his hand on Harry's forehead and whispered the incantation to himself, "Legilimency."

The world dissolved into a fuzzy image of an unfamiliar room with dark tiles on the wall and shelving all around the spot where he stood.

No, he was moving.

Circling something, someone.

Kurt focused harder on the spell and the image sharpened, the room looked more familiar but he'd never been there, it merely looked like somewhere he'd been before. Kurt felt amorphous as he was carried around the room, a large snake at his feet- Kurt wanted to scream but knew that he was intruding on a private moment, not wanting to be seen. The person whose eyes he was seeing through was eulogising the moment and Kurt had yet to properly see whom they were circling, he was yet to receive clear sound but if he focused any harder he feared that he might fry Harry's mind; the piggyback experiment alone was putting undue strain on the boy.

It was when the snake first moved to bind the figure they had been circling that Kurt first saw Sirius Black's face, with a gasp Kurt withdrew his hand.

~0~

"So, what you're saying is that Voldemort is torturing Sirius for information?" Hermione clarified as Harry retold the story from his hospital cot, Hermione turned to Kurt, "Why didn't you tell us this?"

"Something is not right."

"I saw him," Harry ejaculated, "like I saw Mr Weasley."

"Yes," Hermione nodded, "but Kurt is right, you saw a lot more this time. Doesn't this usually happen in disjointed flashes?"

"Yes-"

"And this time it was a full on vision?"

"Yes," Kurt and Harry chorused.

"And it was from Voldemort's point of view instead of the snake?"

"Yes," they exchanged a look this time.

"Something is not right," Hermione shook her head.

Ron nodded, "it's almost like he wanted you to see this."

"That would explain why I passed out afterwards," Harry nodded.

"No, that was my fault," Kurt raised his hand, guilty, "other side-effects might include dizziness, aphasia, nausea and permanent brain damage."

"Did you just say permanent brain damage?"

"Only if I'd concentrated too hard," Kurt brushed off the question, "I couldn't even hear anything, so we're good."

"Well he was asking Sirius for something," Harry explained in a haunted voice, "we have to go help Sirius."

"Don't you think this is a job for the Order?" Kurt quirked a curious brow.

"Fine," Harry nodded, "do your dark magic thing and tell them."

"My dark magic thing?" Kurt's brows shot to his hairline, "I'm going to assume you mean the shadow phasing." He shook his head, "if I were to do that to the nearest member of the Order of the Phoenix I would suffer from permanent brain damage… and I'd have no way of getting back."

"Now what?" Harry groaned.

"We make a floo call," Ron smirked, "to Grimmauld Place, we check if Sirius is there and we alert the Order if he isn't."

"That…" Hermione thought for a moment but her face fell, "would be a great idea if Umbridge and the Ministry weren't monitoring all the fireplaces at Hogwarts."

"Not Umbridge's," he smirked.

"This sounds like a bad idea in the making," Kurt rolled his eyes, "we're going to need another distraction." He pulled out his notepad and scribbled furiously, tapping it with his wand and letting it fly off, "we have twenty minutes, thirty at the most."

Harry smiled broadly, "Venir."

His invisibility cloak appeared in his hands, "let's get moving then."

They all climbed under the cloak and Hermione let out a defeated sigh, "this worked better when we were smaller."

"It has gotten crowded under here," Ron echoed her tone, his voice barely above a whisper, "someone should go on a diet.

"Thank you for volunteering," Hermione bit back, "you have been getting a little chubby, I'm just saying because I love you."

"I expect this from Kurt and Ron," Harry shook his head, "I expect better from you Hermione."

"This is exactly what I expect from Hermione," Kurt scoffed.

"Yes Harry," she giggled, "Lower your expectations of me, I'm only human."

"Are you though?"

"What is that supposed to mean Ronald?"

"Well," he scratched nervously at the back of his neck, "are wizards human?"

"Who the hell knows?" Kurt shook his head.

Ron and Hermione gasped, "I thought you would know."

"Nope," Kurt shook his head, "not my field of specialisation, that's physiology and I'm more into the theory and practice of magic." He seemed to think about it for a moment, "you should ask Mandy, she's going to be a surgeon."

"You three do realise that this cloak doesn't block sound," Harry hissed, "so making noise will attract people's attention."

"Not really," Kurt shook his head, "I have my best person on distraction duty."

"Finn?"

"The castle is basically abandoned because he-" Harry slapped his hand over Kurt's mouth, he pointed to Crabbe and Goyle standing guard at Umbridge's door. Kurt gave a small nod, "Hold on to the cloak."

Kurt produced his wand and pointed it from their end of the corridor to the other, "Veter."

Gail force winds roared through the castle corridors, extinguishing all the sconces and giving them a cover of darkness. The group walked up to Umbridge's office door, "Alohamora." The door was blown open by the wind, "Finite incantatem."

The door slammed shut behind them as the wind died down, Kurt waited to preen in his praises but his friends were focused on the fire place. Kurt moved closer to listen in on the conversation, he saw Kreacher's face in the flames.

"Kreacher," Harry spoke in a rushed tone, "is Sirius around?"

"Around?" Kreacher repeated in a displeased tone.

"Yes," Harry replied, "is he there?"

"Here," Kreacher seemed to give this some thought, "Master Sirius isn't here."

"Who is there?" Harry growled in exacerbation.

"Kreacher is here," the house elf responded.

"Fuck," he pulled his head back, "what do we do now?"

"Now," Ron mused over the question, "we call Charlie, at Kurt's place."

"Hipster Weasley is at work," Kurt rolled his eyes, "try Andromeda, she'll find some way to contact everyone else.

As Harry was throwing floo powder into the fireplace, Professor Umbridge stormed into her office with a malevolent grin on her face, "Not so fast."

"Well," Kurt rolled his eyes, "shit."

"Caught in the act," Professor Umbridge smirked.

"Which act exactly were we caught in?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"You were on your way to Dumbledore," she smirked, "weren't you?"

"And why would we tell you that?" Kurt spoke before the others could contradict her claims, he shot them all a silencing look.

"Boys," she called out to the corridor behind her and group of Slytherin boys entered carrying a robed Finn and Neville by the arms. She smirked, "Restrain them. Mr Malfoy, get Professor Snape and tell him to bring the veritaserum."

Kurt peered at Finn and Neville curiously, "Are you two naked under there?"

"We were streaking," Neville giggled excitedly, "you missed it."

"Glad I did," Kurt nodded to himself, "Why were you streaking?"

"Distr-"

"Silence," Professor Umbridge screeched, "The time for talking will come."

"You won't get a word out of me," Harry spat at her feet.

She waddled over to him and slapped him clean across the face, "I said silence Mr Potter." She let out her signature giggle but there was a manic undertone Kurt had never noticed, "Once the veritaserum touches your lips you won't be able to lie to me anymore."

"The use of veritaserum on a student is against school rules," Hermione cautioned her.

"And I make the rules," she giggled once more, unsettling Kurt.

"Your potion may stop me from lying but it doesn't control what I say," Harry smirked, "I'll just keep telling you about how Voldemort is back and how he killed Cedric Diggory."

"Madam Acting Headmistress," Professor Snape appeared at the door, "You called for me?"

"Yes," she nodded, "time to end this once and for all, the potion I asked for."

"Unfortunately," the man's expression remained neutral, "you've exhausted my stores, using the last of it on Cho Chang and I'm yet to receive a new shipment."

"Are you a potions master or not?" she snapped, "brew more."

"Veritaserum is a propriety potion," Professor Snape countered, raising his voice ever so slightly, "I will not break the copyright of a fellow potioneer, even at the request of the Acting Headmaster." He put an emphasis on the 'acting' and crossed his arms challengingly, "So, unless you wish to poison Mr Potter, I cannot be of any help to you."

"He's got Padfoot in the place where it is," Harry exclaimed as the potions master was exiting.

"Padfoot?" Professor Umbridge furrowed her brow, "what is that?"

"No Idea," he shook his head and left.

Professor Umbridge let out a defeated sigh, "very well, I'm forced to use less conventional methods." She moved to her desk and picked up a framed picture of the Minister for Magic, "Perhaps the Cruciatus curse will loosen your tongue."

"That's illegal!" Hermione warned her.

"What Cornelius doesn't know can't hurt him," she placed the picture face down on her desk and turned to Harry with her stubby wand extended in his direction.

"Tell her Harry," Hermione exclaimed.

"Tell me?" Professor Umbridge turned from Harry to Hermione and back again, "tell me what?"

"If you won't tell her I will," Hermione pushed on.

"Tell me now Ms Granger!"

"Dumbledore," she began.

"You know where he is?" she beamed.

"We know where his secret weapon is," she let out a defeated sigh; Kurt kept a neutral look on his face, hiding his confusion at what she was talking about.

"Where is it?" the High Inquisitor demanded, "Take me to it at once."

"The Forbiden forest," she said dejectedly, "it needed to be somewhere students wouldn't come across it by accident."

She held out her hand, "Wands." She took Harry and Hermione's wands, pointing hers to the door, "Lead the way."

Kurt watched in horror as his friends were led out by a mad woman, with no way of defending themselves. He watched the closed door, trying to will them to comeback but it was to no avail, he wished he'd gone with them.

"You're in for it now," Draco grinned, "All of you are off to Azkaban."

"Shut up!" Kurt heard Neville snap, "the last thing any of us want to do is listen to you yapping right now."

"Watch it Longbottom," Draco sneered, "you don't-"

"Seriously," Neville cut him off, "could you not."

"You little-"

"Little what?" Neville smirked, "You can't call me a mudblood, my blood is purer than yours."

"That's nice," Tracey spoke dismissively, her face hard as stone, "I'm in charge now and I'd like silence." She threw clothes at Neville and Finn's feet, "Put some clothes on, we've seen more than enough of you."

"You're in charge?"

"Yes," she rolled her eyes, "Professor Umbridge said so herself."

"When exactly did she say this?"

"Just now," Tracey glared at Draco and it sent chills up Kurt's spine, "I ran into her in the corridor, you could probably still catch up to her if you ran." She gritted her teeth, "but I'm sure she'd hate that you're not doing what you're supposed to be doing."

"And what are we supposed to be doing?"

"Rounding up the remaining members of Dumbledore's Army, she wants to see them all in the Great Hall when she gets back," she produced a list of names, "do it, don't do it. I'm where I'm supposed to be."

"Crabbe, Goyle-"

"All of you," Tracey explained, "there are at least fifty names on that list."

"And you're going to watch these four alone?" Gregory furrowed his brow.

"I'm going to be top of our year now that Hummel and Granger are going to be expelled," she smirked, "why would I do anything to jeopardise that?"

"Fine," Draco sneered, "Keep a close eye on Hummel, the others are duds."

"Do I look like Goyle to you?" she snapped, "I'm gonna watch them all equally, I know how to do a good job."

Kurt watched the boys file out of the room, heard a chorus of groans and thuds, and then the room was stormed by Luna, Ginny, Padma, Mandy and Lisa stormed into the room. He smirked, "I'm impressed."

"Where is Harry?" Lisa roared.

"Hermione and He are leading Professor Umbridge on a wild goose chase," Kurt pointed toward the window, "they're going to need our help and their wands."

"Then what are we standing around for?" she nodded toward the door, "let's get moving."

Kurt took off after her, catching up he tapped her shoulder, "I like this in charge Lisa, don't do it again in my presence."

As they descended the grand staircase they ran straight into Harry and Hermione, Lisa threw herself into Harry's arms, "Now what?"

"I need to go save Sirius," Harry growled.

"That is a strategic nonstarter," Kurt shook his head, "You don't run into No Man's Land to save one soldier."

"So I should just let Voldemort kill him?"

"If it serves the cause better," Kurt shrugged, "Yes."

"Kurt," the group chorused.

"That's the smart thing to do," Tracey backed him up.

Hermione shrugged and let out a defeated sigh, "Logically, yes."

"But it's Sirius-"

"And it'll always be someone," Kurt spoke impassively.

Harry hugged himself, "So what? I'm just supposed to let him die?" he reached out to Kurt with his eyes, "it's Sirius, Kurt."

"I'm not saying we do nothing," Kurt shook his head, "I'm just telling you that these are the choices you make in leadership."

"Okay then," Hermione nodded to herself, "how do we get to… where are we going?"

"London," Harry and Kurt said at the same time, the boy who lived shot him a confused look.

Kurt shrugged, "I was in your head."

"So we're going to London," Ginny grinned.

"No," Harry shook his head, "I can't ask you to do that for me." He started to back away from the group, "Kurt is right, what if something happens to one of you? I can't put you at risk like that."

"You didn't ask anyone, we're volunteering," Mandy scoffed.

"And it's not for you," Neville continued, "If Dumbledore's afraid of Voldemort getting whatever it is, then it's in all of our best interests that we stop him from getting it."

"Besides," Kurt smirked, "You'll need someone with you who's actually going to pass their Charms OWL."

"So," Luna smiled broadly, "we fly to London."

Tracey shook her head, "that's not very efficient, take the floo."

"Umbridge isn't in her office," Kurt shrugged, "And it has been a while since Harry got his message." He turned to Tracey, "I need you to do something for me," he handed her an envelope, tapping it with his wand as he did so, "I need you to burn this in the fireplace in the Slytherin common room."

"Sure," she flashed him a small smile, "good luck."

"Thanks," they parted ways as they made their way back to Professor Umbridge's office, Kurt threw floo powder into the fire place, "We're going to the Hall of Prophecy, same floor as the court room your case was in."

Kurt herded the group into the fire place stopping Hermione for a quick hug before she went into the unknown, saving himself for last in case something went wrong and they needed cover on his end but nothing came. Kurt was surprised to find the Ministry's main Atrium abandoned, the only sound in the large hall was the churning of the fountain. He lead the group toward the elevators, not encountering a soul as they moved through the government facility.

"Where is everybody?" Luna asked, looking around the deserted corridor.

"The work day is over," Hermione explained, "I guess people have gone home."

"We're missing dinner," Ron and Finn chorused their groans.

Kurt smiled, "I have cereal bars."

The boys looked down at the health snacks in horror, "Never describe these as cereal bars."

"It's very misleading," Ron continued.

"People might think you have rice crispy treats," Finn sulked.

"I could have nothing," Kurt growled, "Like everyone else here."

"I know," Finn nodded, "take what you give me and be grateful."

They rode the elevator down to level nine, Kurt had his wand at the ready as he approached the door he knew from his time at the ministry. Today he would cross that threshold for the first time, he wondered what the Dark Lord had planned for them; they were wilfully entering this trap with no well-defined plan for escape other than brute force. Kurt's hope at presents were all resting on Tracey Davis' instinct for self-preservation and the officials being sent after them, he wasn't ready to die today.

Neville nudged him, "What did you say this place was?"

"The Hall of Prophecy," Kurt spoke in a solemn tone, "every time a prophecy is spoken, a record of it should be placed in this room by whomever speaks or hears it."

"Why are we here?" Mandy followed up as they navigated the maze of tall shelves that was the Hall of Prophecy.

"This is where Sirius is," Harry answered, looking around frantically, "he should be here."

"He isn't here," Hermione shook her hand, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Where is he?"

"They must have moved him," Ginny suggested, "they knew we were coming."

"Or he was never here," Hermione let out a tired sigh, "And you merely saw what he wanted you to see."

"Then why are we here?" Harry asked with tears in his eyes.

"I don't know," Kurt shook his head, "there's no reason for Voldemort to want us here, he knows the prophecy, he's acted on it before."

"Maybe there's another newer one," Ron suggested, "maybe there's more to the original than what he knows."

"Maybe he knows we know he wants it and thinks we'll come defend it," Luna suggested, "luring us out of Hogwarts."

"But why here?" Kurt shook his head.

Hermione shrugged, "Shouldn't we get it so he can't get it?"

Kurt nodded, "check the labels, we're looking for a prophecy told by Sybil Trelawney to Albus Dumbledore."

"I thought Professor Trelawney was a dud," Ron questioned.

"Even a broken clock is right twice a day," Kurt countered as he started searching the labels.

"What do we do when we find it?"

"Well, here it is," Finn called out from where he'd climbed onto the shelf, "I can't get it lose."

"Of course not," a voice came from the shadows, drawing their attention and from the darkness emerged Lucius Malfoy, "Prophecies can only be retrieved by those whom they are about."

"How long have you been skulking back there?" Finn furrowed his brow, jumping down from the shelf.

"That is a great question," Kurt followed up, "have you just been waiting for us there? Because it's been a while since we got the hint that we should come here, have you been standing there all this time?"

"Silence," the man demanded of them.

"I think they have been standing there," Finn nodded to himself.

"I can barely get you guys to look for a stupid prophecy and the other side can get their people to spend hours skulking in the dark waiting for a fifteen year old," Kurt threw his hands up in defeat.

Kurt and Finn continue to argue and complain, drawing attention away from Harry, who moved to retrieve the prophecy. The group of Death Eaters moved closer, Lucius Malfoy was the only one whose face wasn't hidden behind a silver mask. He extended his hand toward the group, "Now that Mr Potter has retrieved the prophecy, hand it to me."

"Give me the prophecy boy," Lucius Malfoy demanded, his hand extended toward the group expectantly.

"No," Hermione interjected, "destroy it Harry."

"If you destroy it then you'll never know what connects you to the Dark Lord," Mr Malfoy tempted Harry, as so many had tried to before, with the promise of answers.

"Destroy it," Hermione repeated, "So that Voldemort can't get his hands on it."

"You dare speak his name," the woman he knew to be his mother stepped forward and removed her mask. Her beauty had long faded, her face aged by sadness and corrupted by madness, "Mudblood!"

"Bellatrix LeStrange," Neville stepped past Kurt, wand extended and seething at the sight of the diminutive woman; Kurt made a mental note to check if Neville had grown.

"Neville Longbottom," she smiled, her teeth rotten from neglect, "How are mummy and daddy?"

"Better now that they're about to be avenged," he level his wand to her face, a challenge.

Kurt brought his hands together in a clapping motion, "finite incantatem." The lights in the Hall of Prophecy went dark, "run."

The group scattered, all going the way they believed the exit to be. It wasn't long before the room was lit by small balls of light on the tips of wands, Kurt was left standing alone before the group of Death Eaters, "Incendio."

Mr Malfoy raised his cane and deflected the plume of flames from the group, "get them, you fools." The group exploded into pillars of black smoke until it was just Kurt and Lucius Malfoy left behind, "I've been told that I don't scare you."

"The only thing scary about you are your cheap extentions," the man's eyes moved upward to check his hair and Kurt went on the offensive, "expilliarmus, stupify." As Mr Malfoy was thrown back Kurt took off after his friends, uncertain as to whether his prowess could stand up against an older and more experienced dark wizard. All around him Kurt could hear spell casting and the grunts of exertion, making it difficult for him to focus on any single person. Then, by chance, he came across Mandy and Hermione; they were standing back-to-back and facing off against Rebastan LeStrange and someone he didn't recognise.

Rebastan's youth and beauty too had been ravaged by Azkaban, behind his eyes there was no madness but instead there was a darkness; the man looked so much like Kurt but Kurt saw so little of himself in him. Catching the men unawares, Kurt was able to stun them, "Let's keep moving, we need to get out of here."

"I know this isn't the time to tell us you told us so," Hermione shook her head.

Kurt smirked, "I can always make time to be right."

"Where the hell is the exit?" Mandy looked around as she spoke, "Where is Neville?"

"Neville can take care of himself," Kurt assured him, "he'll be fine." Kurt led them through the maze of shelves, "we need to find Luna and Ginny, they are probably together and the least experienced of the group."

"You can always count on Kurt to care about the children," Hermione chuckled.

Mandy grabbed the pair of them and stopped them as they were turning onto the main passage between the floor to ceiling glass shelves, the shelves started to shake and then in the distance- the way they were headed- started to collapse. Kurt let out a deep breath, "I don't choose to go there."

"Me neither," Mandy shook her head, "other way."

"Look," Hermione exclaimed jovially, "there's the exit."

They ran toward the ornate doors as all the shelves in the room collapsed to the floor some ways behind them, filling the room with a chorus of shattering glass. Giving the air a distinct oderlessness of neon, the gas Kurt assumed had been glowing in some of the orbs. Hermione opened the door and the three of them came to a dead stop, looking into the sheer drop into the seemingly endless abyss of darkness.

"Do we jump?"

"Either that or death by a thousand cuts," Mandy shook her head, "I'll take my chances with Gravity."

Kurt and Hermione watched Mandy jump, "Do you want to-" before they could finish the thought, a group of bodies collided with them and gave them the nudge they needed to cross the threshold into the unknown.

The drop was only a few stories, the darkness a trick. Mandy was standing in front of a stone arch with her wand pointed at them, "Aresto momentum."

Their fall was slowed to stop inches above the cavernous floor, before releasing them to touch down on the ground gently. Kurt had only heard of the Chamber of Death, it was one of those know secrets that some people insisted on pretending to merely be legend. The veil stood broad and imposing in the centre, filling the chamber through sheer presence and the faint whispering that came from beyond the threshold; a threshold Kurt knew to be a one way trip. Plumes of black smoke descended from the ceiling like a polluted fog and where it touched the floor, a Death Eater appeared. Their group got to their feet and stood shoulder to shoulder, in a circle formation with their wands ready for the defensive.

Harry produced the orb containing his prophecy, white smoke swirling as he held it up. He threw it to the ground with all his strength but before it could connect with the black rock, Lucius Malfoy pointed his cane toward it and redirected its descent to destruction to his waiting palm. He lifted the orb toward the light and smirked, once more fog rained down on the chamber but it appeared to catch the Death Eaters by surprise. Where it touched the ground appeared Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Alastor Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Nymphadora Tonks and Charlie Weasley.

"How?" Harry looked around the room with wonder in his eyes.

"Broken down telephone," Kurt smirked, "I'm really good at it."

"You are brilliant."

"Professor Snape played his part too," Kurt shook his head modestly, "I'm but a small cog."

Lucius Malfoy nodded to his colleagues and they moved to attack; Kurt and Harry did the same, their group dispersing. The signal was to take cover but Kurt ran straight for Mr Malfoy and the orb, he was struck by a curse that knocked him off his course- forcing him to tuck and roll.

"Aceleus," Kurt pointed his wand at the point from which the curse had originated as he rolled into a kneeling position. Facing him was Rudolphus LeStrange, "This is going to be fun."

The broad man smirked, his movements proud, proper and gentlemanly just as they had been in the memory of his trial. He stepped toward Kurt and pointed his wand at him once more "Confrigo."

"Protego Maximus," Kurt swiped his wand, blocking the blasting curse. He twirling on the spot and producing his second wand, "Aro Maximus." Kurt sent a stream of blue flames in the man's direction and he easily blocked them but Kurt had his primary wand at the ready, "Expulso."

The curse his father's shielding charm and knocked him across the room from sheer inertia alone, Kurt made quick work of following up, "Verdimilious." Green sparks shot from both wands, causing the man to writhe on the ground, Kurt's advantage was taken from him by the intense shooting pain of the cruciatus curse hitting him from behind. He fell to his knees, then onto his stomach, writhing on the ground as burning pain shot through every nerve in his body.

Standing over him was Rebastan, the same smirk that had been on his father's face on his, "he's not half bad."

"He might actually be good at this," Rudolphus agreed as he came to stand beside his brother. And there they were, a complete set of LeStrange men, "Looks too much like Bellatrix."

"Yes, he does," Rebastan licked his lips, his smirk growing. Kurt was powerless to do anything, say anything as all his muscles had stiffened beyond mobility. The man stepped toward him but was struck by a knockback jinx, releasing Kurt from the torture curse.

Kurt took a deep breath and got to his feet, there was no time for fragility or gratitude. Kurt pointed his wand at the man who had been torturing him a moment earlier, "prerušovač kostí." The man screamed as Kurt calmly spoke the words over and over again. He stepped toward him, "you lack creativity." Kurt smirked to himself, speaking the words for a fourth time.

A hand gripped him around the waste, "That's enough." A gruff voice growled in his ear as he was carried away from where the puddle that had been Rebastan LeStrange lay clutching his hand, his fingers bent out of sorts.

"Put me down or so help me god," Kurt struggled against his captor's grip.

Charlie put him down and looked him dead in the eye, "take five minute, you don't have to become them to beat them."

He walked away from Kurt, leaving him introspective of his actions; his words had been just as Barty Crouch Jr had recounted the LeStrange brothers' had been the night they discovered Bellatrix's pregnancy, he had broken his uncle's fingers just as the man had broken Argyris Mopsus' fingers. Kurt took a deep breath, he didn't want to become them but he had to defeat them.

Kurt got to his feet and charged straight for where Kingsley and Sirius were battling Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix, he pointed his wand to the floor between them, "confrigo." A large crater was blown into the ground, knocking all four parties back and forcing the prophecy out of Mr Malfoy's hands. The orb shattered upon contact with the ground, Kurt knew then that he could never become like the Death Eaters because he had long evolved past them; the first this he would have done if he wanted the prophecy to survive would have been to enchant it with indestructability. He helped Kingsley to his feet, as he was to helping Sirius to his feet the man was struck with a hex from behind Kurt; this time the laws of physics worked against their side, the inertia pushing Sirius through the veil.

Kurt watched as the man's eyes turned dark and his body dissolved into the archway. His instincts turned him before he knew what he was doing, he grabbed Harry- who was running toward where Sirius had been standing. The room was still as Kurt held Harry for a moment as he sobbed; the Death Eaters no longer had purpose, with the orb shattered, and the Order was mourning their loss; over the boy's shoulder Kurt could see Bellatrix LeStrange grinning at him. She blew him a kiss and cackled loudly, "I killed Sirius Black."

Harry's body went stiff, he fought his way out of Kurt's grasp and took off in pursuit of Bellatrix; This reignited the battle, both sides energised by the kill. Kurt followed Harry, Bellatrix was a formidable witch that Harry couldn't take on alone and he didn't trust her instinct to flee. Kurt chased the pair down a corridor and up countless flights of stairs, Bellatrix kept singing her twisted song in a childlike fashion, "I killed Sirius Black."

They climbed the stairs till they spilled out onto the main atrium, Kurt had forgotten how fast Harry's short little legs were, he was impressed by what good shape Bellatrix was in- especially at her age. Kurt was winded but was able to catch up to Harry, the boy had stunned Bellatrix but stopped dead- unmoving- beside where she lay waiting for him to do his worst; Kurt had to admire how dedicated Voldemort's followers were to him.

Harry turned toward Kurt with his wand extended but it was knocked out of his hands as Voldemort became corporeal between them, this would be the first time Harry faced off against the Dark Lord and Kurt's second time in the man's presence. Lord Voldemort shook his head, "You're weak Harry."

"I may be weak," he spoke between gritted teeth, "but I'm not alone."

He nodded toward Kurt, he responded the only way he knew how- a polite curtsey and brandishing of both his wands; showing the man that he was ready for a fight. Before Voldemort could respond, the fireplace nearest Harry blazed the distinct green of the floo network, and from the flames emerged Professor Dumbledore, "You were a fool to come here tonight Tom."

"You're not alone indeed," the Dark Lord bowed to Professor Dumbledore.

"The Aurors are on their way," Professor Dumbledore spoke in an impassive monotone.

"Yes, but by the time they arrive I will be long gone," Voldemort matched the suspended headmaster's tone, "and you, old friend, will be dead."

"We are not friends," Professor Dumbledore snapped. He produced his wand and bowed, Voldemort reciprocated and they were off. Their spell casting was entirely silent and, in part, wandless as they used everything at their disposal to attack each other; Voldemort shattered all the windows that lined the atrium and sent the glass hurdling toward Professor Dumbledore, who put up a shielding charm that turned the glass into a fine powder and robbed them of all their momentum. Kurt spied Bellatrix moving toward an expecting Harry, he melted into the shadows behind him and appeared behind her, dragging her into the darkness with him.

She shook him of as they reappeared in the shadow of a fireplace across the room from Harry, "Why you little!"

Kurt wrestled her out into the open, she kicked him off easily and stood over him. Kurt moved quickly, pointing his wand at her, "Flipendo." She was knocked back into a fireplace of green flames, "Le Châtaue d'Hiver de la Famille Noire!"

Kurt turned his attention back to the battle between Lord Voldemort and Professor Dumbledore, there was a Fiendfyre in the form of a serpent and a wall of water rising from the fountain. Kurt searched the atrium for Harry, finding him laying on the ground beside the fountain. Kurt melted into the shadows once more, his migraine was at a point where he thought he might pass out from pain but he had to get to Harry and check if he'd been struck by one of the deflecting spells. He emerged from the shadows in time to watch the Dark Lord melting away, as bars a group of aurors led by the Minister for Magic entered the Atrium.

Kurt held a writhing Harry, his muscles were taut and his teeth gritted. He seemed to be whispering to himself but his words weren't clear enough for Kurt to hear, what he did hear was Cornelius Fudge.

"He's back."

~0~

Kurt sat on the Headmaster's desk with his feet swinging under him, quite a bit had happened in the days since the clash of good and evil that had taken place at the Ministry for Magic; Professor Dumbledore had been reinstated as Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft, Professor Umbridge had been recalled by the ministry, The Daily Prophet had printed a retraction of their slander of Harry and Professor Dumbledore, Rita Skeeter's interview had been reprinted and Cornilius Fudge had been dismissed from his position as Minister for Magic; Kurt's favourite part had been when Percy had been forced to apologise to his siblings.

Harry entered the room, his face the picture of sorrow; Sirius would be the first person that Harry could truly grieve, this was the first time that someone he had personally loved had died. He had mourned Cedric's death because Kurt had lost, and it was part of the memories Kurt had shared with him from the graveyard; he would never stop mourning the loss of his parents but he had no memories of them, they are an abstract loss; in Sirius he had loss the only father-figure he could call his own. Kurt extended a welcoming hand, the boy took it, "My beloved."

"I know," he let out a tired sigh, "he's in a better place, or whatever."

"Not what I was going to say," Kurt shook his head, "he could be in fucking paradise for all I care." Kurt pulled him into a tight hug, "but the shadow that remains will hurt for so much longer, the mark he left in your life will take to heal and you'll carry the scars for so much longer."

"Does it still hurt?" he leaned his head on Kurt's shoulder, "losing Cedric."

"So much," Kurt chuckled, "I can't even sustain a functional relationship with any form of suitor, I dedicated a year of my life to a series of broken and incomplete relationships that didn't begin to fill the void he left in my life."

"I'm sure you're worth waiting for," Harry grinned, releasing his grip on Kurt and taking his seat, "You and Goyle may still make this work, and I can get my money back from Mandy."

"This-"

"I know," Harry rolled his eyes, "this is why I lived under the stairs."

"Not where I was going with that," Kurt smirked, "I was going to say this too shall pass, someday you will be something that resembles a person."

Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat, "If you're quite done."

"Oh yes," Kurt nodded to himself, "we called you here because I now know why Voldemort was after the prophecy." Kurt directed a chastising stare at Professor Dumbledore, "it turns out he never heard the whole thing and wanted to hear the rest."

"I would like share the prophecy with both of you."

"Only if you want to hear it," Kurt cautioned his friend.

"So many people have been hurt by this stupid prophecy," Harry nodded to himself, "the least I can do is give it a quick listen."

"The prophecy was told to me by Professor Trelawney when she was interviewing for her job," Professor Dumbledore explained to the pair, "I was thinking of removing Divination from the Hogwarts Curriculum following the death of Professor Mopsus."

"Which was before you were even born," Kurt pointed out.

"Yes," Professor Dumbledore nodded to himself, "she delivered the prophecy that altered the course of your life, and it was overhead- in part- by one of his followers, who reported what little they had heard back to him."

"What does it say?"

" _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives… the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies_ ," Professor recounted the prophecy, then went silent, waiting for a response.

"That's it?" Kurt quirked a curious brow as he listened to his friend, "that's the prophecy that fucked up my whole life? That's some bullshit!" Harry got to his feet, vibrating as Kurt often did, "it doesn't even rhyme!"

"I don't think they are supposed to rhyme," Kurt shrugged.

Harry shook his head, "They always rhyme in books and stuff."

"But this is real life," Kurt countered.

Harry shook his head once more and took his seat, "I guess Kurt was right, as always."

"I beg your pardon?" Professor Dumbledore gaped at him.

"That it had something to do with my birthday," Harry shook his head, "that it could have just easily been someone else, it could have been Neville."

"I- I don't-" Professor Dumbledore gaped at him.

"I'm perceptive," Kurt shrugged.

Harry got to his feet, "I have to go, I thought I could do this- not right now."

"Harry," Professor Dumbledore called out after him but that did not deter Harry from leaving.

A silence settled over the room and Kurt turned to the Headmaster, "I think it's time we discussed Tom Riddle's Diary."


End file.
